Whimsey 
Anthology 


Collected    b1 


A 
Whimsey 

Anthology 


Collected  by 
Carolyn  Wells 

f  •    •  •  • 

*%X: '.  :       :*•:• 

v  .      •••  • 


Charles  Scribners  Sons 

1906 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published,  September,  1906 


PREFACE 

AWHIMSEY  is  defined  by  the  dictionaries  as 
a  whim,  a  freak,  a  capricious  notion,  an 
odd   device.     Though   of  trifling   value  as 
literary  efforts,  verbal  whimseys  often  display  such 
ingenuity  and  patience  of  labor  that  they  command, 
perforce,  a  certain  admiration. 

Many  of  the  best  and  most  learned  of  writers 
have  amused  themselves  in  making  these  oddities, 
but  as  modern  times  offer  little  leisure  for  such 
work,  the  best  examples  are  oftenest  found  among 
the  works  of  the  earlier  authors. 

A  literary  whimsey  is  not  merely  the  expression 
of  a  whimsical  thought  or  fancy,  but  an  odd  or 
capricious  form  of  that  expression.  It  is  whimseys 
of  manner  not  matter  that  are  offered  in  this  col- 
lection. 


224252 


CONTENTS 

LOGICAL  WHIMSEYS 

PAGE 

Conjugal  Conjugations  .  .  A .  W.  Bellaw  ....  3 

Love's  Moods  and  Senses  .  .  Anonymous  ....  5 

An  Original  L6Ve  Story  .  .  Anonymous  ....  7 

"Queries" W.Stanford  ....  8 

The  Ballad  of  Ameighlia  Mair- 

eigh Anonymous  ....  9 

The  Pearl  of  Palencia  .  .  .  Waller  Parke  .  .  .  .  n 

Ough *  .  .  Anonymous  ....  13 

O-U-G-H.  A  Fresh  Hack  at 

an  Old  Knot Charles  Battell  Loomis  .  14 

Ow Anonymous  ....  15 

Adioux  Among  the  Sioux  .  .  Anonymous  .  .  .  .  16 

Job Anonymous  .  .  .  .  16 

The  Cow — A  Bovinity  .  .  .  Anonymous  .  .  .  .  17 

Half  Hours  with  the  Classics  .  H.J.DcBurgh  ...  17 

Shake,  Mulleary  and  Go-ethe  .  H.C.Bunner  ...  19 

SHAPED  WHIMSEYS 

The  Wine  Glass       ....  Proverbs  xxiii,  29-32     .  21 

Song  of  the  Decanter      .     .      .  Anonymous     ....  22 

The  Flagon Pannard 23 

The  Glass Pannard 24 

Bait  of  the  Average  Fisherman  .  H .  C.  Dodge  ....  25 

A  Type  of  Beauty     ....  Anonymous     ....  26 

TheStegomyia Anonymous     ....  27 

Little  Boys  take  Warning    .      .  Anonymous     ....  28 

The  Tale  of  a  Mouse      .     .     .  Lewis  Carroll       ...  29 

The  Mice Lewis  Carroll  ....  30 

The  Old  Line  Fence       .      .      .  A.W.    ellaw        ...  31 

Jones's  Ride McLandburgh  Wilson      .  34 

On  the  Street A  nonymous     ....  35 

Avoirdupois Anonymous     ....  36 

A  Cubic  Triolet Anonymous     ....  36 


[vii] 


Con  tents 

ALPHABETICAL  WHIMSEYS 

PAGE 

The  Siege  of  Belgrade    .      .      .  Anonymous     ....  37 

A,  B,  C C.  S.  Calverley      ...  38 

Monorhymed  Alphabet        .      .  Anonymous     ....  39 

Monorhymed  Alphabet        .      .  Mortimer  Collins  ...  40 

Memorandums Charles  E.  Carryl       .     .  41 

An  Animal  Alphabet      .      .      .  Anonymous     ....  42 

An  Animal  Alphabet      .      .      .  Edward  Lear  ....  43 

TYPOGRAPHICAL  WHIMSEYS- 

Dirge Anonymous     ....  47 

ODV Anonymous     ....  48 

An  Alphabetical  Wooing     .      .  Anonymous     ....  51 

OIC Anonymous     ....  52 

The  Zealless  Xylographer    .      .   Mary  M apes  Dodge    .      .  52 

A  Geographical  Love  Song        .  Anonymous     ....  53 

The  Sunday  Fisherman       .      .  A .  W.  Bellaw  ....  54 

An  Arab  and  his  Donkey     .      .   Anonymous     ....  57 

A  Song  of  the  & Anonymous     ....  58 

Lovelilts Anonymous     ....  60 

Romantic  Recollections       .      .  Henry  S.Leigh     .     .      .61 

LIPOGRAMS 

The  Russo-Turkish  War     .     .  A  nonymous     ....  63 

The  Fall  of  Eve Anonymous     ....  63 

The  Approach  of  Evening  .      .  Anonymous     ....  64 

Incontrovertible  Facts    .      .      .  Anonymous     ....  64 

Philosophy Anonymous     ....  65 

The  Fate  of  Nassan        .      .      .  Anonymous     ....  65 

Alphabet  Verse Anonymous     ....  66 

ALLITERATIVE  WHIMSEYS 

My  Madeline Anonymous     ....  67 

Bloom,  Beauteous  Blossoms      .   Sir  Patrick  Fells  ...  68 

[viii] 


Contents 


Susan  Simpson Anonymous     ....  69 

The  Cushat Alexander  Montgomery    .  70 

Qua^ritur Rudyard  Kipling .      .      .71 

Procuratores Anonymous     ....  72 

ACROSTICS 

Acrostic Sir  John  Davies   ...  73 

Acrostic Charles  Lamb             .      .  73 

Acrostic Bogart 74 

Acrostic Lewis  Carroll  ....  75 

An  Acrostic -\nonynwus     ....  75 

An  Acrostic Lewis  Carroll  .     .     .     .  76 

Double  A(  r«>stir        ....   Anonymous     ....  77 

Peculiar  Acrostic — A  Valentine  FdgarA.Poc  .     ...  77 

Particular  Acrostic  ....   Thomas  Jordan    ...  78 

ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES 

Enigma  OQ  the  Letter  H       .      .  Catherine  Fanshawe  .     .  79 
Travesty   of    Mi^s    I-'unshuwr'^ 

Enigma Horace  Mayhew  ...  So 

The  Letter  H's  Protrst  to  the 

Cockneys Mr.  Skeat 81 

Enigma  on  the  Letter!  .     .     .  Catherine  Fanshawe  .     .  81 

An  Unsolved  Enigma     .      .      .    Anna  Seacard  .      ...  82 

An  Unsolved  Enigma     .      .      .  A  nonymous     ....  83 

An  Unsolved  Enigma     .      .      .   .  1  nonymous     ....  83 

Old  Riddle A  nonymous     ....  84 

A  Famous  Riddle     .      .      .      .  A  nonymous     ....  85 

Old  Riddle Anonymous     ....  88 

Enigma  on  Cod A  nonymous     ....  89 

Charade:  Campbell       .      .      .   \Vinthrop     Mackworth 

Praed 89 

ANAGRAMS 

A  Telegram  Anagrammatised  .  Dr.  John  Abernethy   .     .  91 

[ix] 


Co ntents 


PALINDROMES 

Palindromes H.  Campkin   . 

Palindrome  Lines     ....  Anonymous 

MNEMONICS 

Lady  Moon Christina  G.  Rossetti 

Days  in  the  Months        .      .      .  Anonymous 

The  Perfect  Greyhound       .      .  Old  Rhyme      .      .      . 

The  Cuckoo Old  Rhyme      .      .     . 

Two    Apple-Howling    Songs — 

Surre  ,  Devonshire     .      .      .  Anonymous 

Days  of  Birth Old  Rhyme      .      .      . 

Prognostications       ....  Anonymous 

Hours  of  Sleep Anonymous 

Old  Adage Anonymous 

Old  Saw Anonymous 

French  Adage Anonymous 

A  Caution Anonymous 

Cautions Hugh  Rhodes 

Philosophic  Advice  ....  Anonymous 

The  Right  Sort  of  a  Fellow  .      .  Anonymous 

A  Man  of  Words       ....  Anonymous 

Sheridan's  Calendar       .      .      .  Anonymous     .      . 

A  Rule  of  Three        ....  Wallace  Rice    .      .     . 

Reasons  for  Drinking     .      .      .  Dr.  Henry  Aldrich 

A  Bacchanalian  Toast   .      .      .  Robert  Herrick      .     . 

CATALOGUE  WHIMSEYS 

The  Hundred  Best  Books    .      .  Mostyn  T.  Pigott        „      .106 

A  Rhyme  for  Musicians       .      .  E.  Lemke 109 

'Tis  Ever  Thus R.  K.  Munkittrick      .      .no 

Indian  Tribes Anonymous     .      .      .      .in 

Signs  of  Rain Edward  Jenner     .      .      .112 

Similes Anonymous     .     .      .      .   113 


Contents 


A  Nursery  Rhyme    ....  Anonymous     .      .  .  .114 

London  Bells Anonymous     .      .  .  .115 

The  Court  of  Aldermen  at  Fish- 
mongers'Hall        ....  Anonymous     .      .  .  .117 

Earth Anonymous     .     .  .  .118 

The  Joys  of  Marriage    .      .      .  Charles  Cotton      .  .  .119 

A  New- Year's  Gift  for  Shrews  .  Anonymous     .      .  .  .120 

One  Week Carolyn  Wells       .  .  .120 

TONGUE  TWISTERS 

The  Twiner Dr.Wallis       .     .  .  .122 

Un  Cordier Attain  Chartier     .  .  .122 

The  Thatcher Anonymous     .      .  .  .123 

Peter  Piper Anonymous     .      .  .  .123 

Simple  English Ray  Clarke  Rose    .  .  .    124 

\VhatHiawathaProbablyDid.  Anonymous     ....   124 

MONORHYMES 

Under  the  Trees  ....  C.S.Calverley  .  .  .125 
The  Ruling  Power  ....  Thomas  Hood  .  .  .126 
The  Musical  Ass  ....  TomasodeYriarte  .  .127 
The  Roman  Nose  ....  Merrit  England  .  .  .128 
To  Mrs.  Thrale  on  Her  Thirty- 
fifth  Birthday Boswell 128 

A  Rhyme  for  Tipperary       .      .  Dr.  Fitzgerald       .  .  .129 

The  Doneraile  Litany    .      .      .   Patrick  O' Kelly    .  .  .132 

My  Manx  Minx Orlando  Thomas  Dobbin     135 

Five  Wines Robert  Herrick      .  .  .137 

Lines  on  Rose Charles  Battell  Loomis  .   138 

INTERIOR  RHYMES 

Bowled Anonymous     .      .  .  .140 

A  Nocturnal  Sketch        .      .      .   Thomas  Hood       .  .  .140 

The  Double  Knock  ....   Thomas  Hood       .  .  .142 

[xi] 


Contents 


PAGE 

The  Future  of  the  Classics  .      .  Anonymous     ....    143 

JocosaLyra Austin  Dobson      .  .  .    145 

A  Trip  to  Paris James  Smith   ....   146 

A  Ferry  Tale Charles  E.  Carryl  .  .149 

Song  for  a  Cracked  Voice     .      .  Wallace  Irwin       .  .  .150 

BLANK  VERSE  IN  PROSE 

Death  of  Little  Nell        .      .      .  Charles  Dickens    .  .  .152 

Song  of  the  Kettle     ....  Charles  Dickens    .  .  .154 

FIXED  FORMS 

Villanelle Walter  W.  Sleat     .  .  .    155 

The  Rondeau Austin  Dobson      .  .  .156 

The  Roundel A  C \  Swinburne   .  .  .156 

Yillunelleof  Things  Amusing    .  Gelett  Burgess        .  .  .    157 

Tema  Con  Variazioni     .      .      .  Leuns  Carroll  .      .  .  .158 

The  Triolet W.E.Henley       .  .  .159 

Triolet Paul  T.Gilbert      .  .  .159 

A  Pitcher  of  Mignonette       .      .  H.C.Bunner        .  .  .160 

The  Triolet Austin  Dobson      .  .  .160 

Ballade W.  E.  Henley .      .  .  .161 

Villanelle W.E.Henley        .  .  .    162 

ARondelay Peter  A.  Motteux  .  .163 

Sonnet  to  Order H.C.Bunner        .  .  .164 

Sonnet  on  the  Sonnet      .      .      .  James  Y.  Gibson  .  .  .164 

Sonnet  to  a  Clam      ....  JohnG.Saxe.      .  .  .165 

Rondeau Leigh  Hunt     .      .  .  .    1 66 

Remember Judy 166 

The  Wail  of  the   "Personally 

Conducted" H.C.Bunner       ...   167 

CHAIN  VERSE 

Out  of  Sight,  Out  of  Mind  .      .  BarnabyGooge      .  .  .169 

Ad  Mortem A  nonymous     .      .  .  .170 

Nerve  Thy  Soul        ....  /I  nonymous     .      .  .  .170 


[xii] 


Co ntents 

(    1  NTONES   OR    MOSAIC   WHIMSEYS 

PAGE 

Life Anonymous     .     .  .  .172 

My  Genevieve Anonymous     .     .  .  .174 

The  Fate  of  the  Glorious  Devil  Anonymous     .     .  .  -   175 

Echoes Lewis  Carroll  .     .  .  .177 

Whatever  is,  is  Right      .      .     .  Laman  Blanchard  .  .178 

JESUITICAL  VERSES 

The  Double-Faced  Creed    .      .   Anonymous  .      .      .      .179 

K<jui vocal  Verses      ....   Anonymous  .      .      .      .179 

The  Platform Anonymous  .     .     .     .180 

Panegyric  on  the  Ladfti      .     .  Anonymou*  ....  181 

Ambiguous  Lines     ....  Anonymous  ....   182 

K(  no  VERSES 

Echo John  G.  Saxe  .     .     .     .183 

Royalist  Lines Anonymous     ....   184 

Song Addison 185 

MACARONIC  POETRY 

Very  Felis-itous Green  Kendrick  .  .  .186 

^Estivation O.  W.  Holmes  .  .  .187 

Ce  M6me  Vieux  Coon  .  .  .  Anonymous  .  .  .  .188 
\\ildSportsintheEast.  .  .  Anonymous  ....  189 
To  the  Fair"Come-Outer"  .  Anonymous  ....  190 

"Ich  Bin  Dein" Anonymous  ....  192 

Macaronic  Mother  Goose  .  .  Anonymous  ....  193 

Jack  and  Jill. 

Little  Bo-peep 

Little  Jack  Homer. 

LINGUISTIC  AND  DIALECTIC  VERSE 

Ye  Carpette  Knyghte  .  .  .  Lewis  Carroll  .  .  .  .195 
The  Carelesse  Nurse  Mayd  .  Thomas  Hood  .  .  .196 


[xiii] 


Contents 


PAGE 

A  Border  Ballad        ....   Captain  Harry  Graham  .    196 

Villikens Richard  Mans  field      .      .198 

From  Vivette's  "Milkmaid"     .   Carolyn  Wells       .      .      .    199 
Triolets  Ollendorffiens  .      .      .  J.K.  Stephen  ....   200 

Justice  to  Scotland   ....   Punch 201 

"Soldier,  Rest!"       ....  Robert  J.  Burdette       .     .   202 

PUNNING  WHIMSEYS 

The   Beauties   of  English   Or- 
thography         Anonymous     ....  203 

The  Briefless  Barrister  .      .      .  John  G.  Saxe  ....  205 

A  Country  Summer  Pastoral     .   A  nonymous     ....  207 

Japanesque Oliver  Her  ford      .     .      .  208 

To  My  Nose        .     ^    .      .     .  Alfred  A.Forrester     .     .  209 

(Alfred  Croivquit) 

A  Catalectic  Monody !    .     .     .  Cruikshank's  Omnibus    .  209 
Spelling  Reform        ....  Anonymous     .     .     .     .210 

TRAVESTIES  OR  WHIMSICAL  BURLESQUES 

Optimism N.  M 212 

The  Original  Lamb       .     .      .  Tid-bits 213 

The  Little  Star Anonymous     ....  214 

A  Piazza  Tragedy     ....  Eugene  Field  .     .     .     .215 

After  Dilettante  Concetti     .      .  H.D.Traill   .     .     .     .216 

Israfiddlestrings        ....  Anonymous     .     .     .      .219 

Midsummer  Madness    .      .      .  Anonymous     ...     .     .   220 

Ballad  of  the  Canal  .      .      .      .  Phoebe  Gary    ....  222 

Poetry  and  the  Poet        .      .      .  H.  C.  Bunner       .     .     .223 

Whenceness  of  the  Which    .      .  Anonymous     ....   224 

The  Mighty  Must     ....  W.S.Gilbert   ....   225 

A  Concord  Love-Song    .      .      .  James  Jeffrey  Roche   .      .   226 

A  Song  of  Sorrow      ....  Charles  Battell  Loomis     .   227 

Waterloo  Place H.  Cholmondeley-Pennell  228 

All  the  Same  in  the  End       .      .  Isaac  Ross       .      .      .      .228 


[xiv] 


Co n tent s 


A  Appeal  for  Are  to   the   Sex- 
tant of  the  Old  Brick  Meetin- 

ouse — By  a  gasper     .     .      .  Anonymous     ....  229 

TECHNICAL  WHIMSEYS 

The  Cosmic  Egg       ....  Anonymous     ....  232 
Ode  on  the  4$oth  Anniversary 

Celebration  at  Eton    .     .      .  J.  K .  Stephen  .     .     .     .233 

Nursery  Gardening                    .   N.  M 234 

The  Chemist  to  His  Love    .     .  Punch 235 

Zoology Punch 236 

A  Billet-Doux 1  nonymous     ....  238 

IMITATIVE  HARMONY 

The  Bells E.  A.Poe 239 

The  Cataract  of  Lodore       .     .   Robert  Southey      .     .     .243 

What  is  a  Woman  Like?      .      .  Anonymous     ....  247 

The  Kitchen  Clock  ....  John  Vance  Cheney   .     .  248 
The  Fisherman's  Chant       .     .  F.  C.  Burnand      .     .     .251 

The  Recruit Robert  William  Chambers  252 

No Thomas  Hood       .     .     .  254 

Lay  of  the  Deserted  Influenzaed  H.  Cholmondeley-Pennell  255 

Belagcholly  Days     ....  Anonymous     ....  256 
An  Invitation  to  the  Zoological 

Gardens Punch 257 

LIMERICKS 

Short  Musical  Histories       .      .  Anonymous     ....  259 

Prevalent  Poetry       ....  Anonymous     ....  260 

Topographical Anonymous     ....  261 

A  Serious  Love  Spell      .      .      .  Anonymous     ....  261 

Wilhdmj Robert}.  Burdette       .     .  262 

Some  Saintly  Cities  ....  Ferdinand  G.  Christgau  .  263 

Limericks Carolyn  Wells       .     .     .264 


[XV] 


Co n ten  t s 


Limerick Cosmo  M  onkhouse 

Limerick Oliver  Her  ford 

Limerick Anonymous     .     . 

Limerick Gelett  Burgess 

Limerick Anonymous     . 

Limerick Anonymous     .      . 

Limerick Anonymous 

Limerick Edward  Lear  . 

Limerick W.  S.  Gilbert   .      . 

Limericks Anonymous 


[xvi] 


A  WHIMSEY  ANTHOLOGY 


OL 


LOGICAL  WHIMSEYS* 


CONJUGAL  CONJUGATIONS 


maid,  let  me  speak 
What  I  never  yet  spoke: 
You  have  made  my  heart  squeak 

As  it  never  yet  squoke, 
And  for  sight  of  you,  both  my  eyes  ache  as  they 
ne'er  before  oak. 

With  your  voice  my  ears  ring, 

And  a  sweeter  ne'er  rung, 
Like  a  bird's  on  the  wing 

When  at  morn  it  has  wung. 

And  gladness  to  me  it  doth  bring,  such  as  never 
voice  brung. 

My  feelings  I'd  write, 

But  they  cannot  be  wrote, 
And  who  can  indite 

What  was  never  indote! 

And  my  love  I  hasten  to  plight — the  first  that  I 
plote. 

*  Logical  effects  of  grammar,  spelling,  pronunciation,  etc. 

[3] 


$  ey    Anthology 


'  Yfes,  ycu  woul'l  I  choose, 

Whom  I  long  ago  chose, 
And  my  fond  spirit  sues 

As  it  never  yet  sose, 
And  ever  on  you  do  I  muse,  as  never  man  mose. 

The  house  where  you  bide 

Is  a  blessed  abode; 
Sure,  my  hopes  I  can't  hide, 
For  they  will  not  be  hode, 

And  no  person  living  has  sighed,  as,  darling,  I've 
sode. 

Your  glances  they  shine 

As  no  others  have  shone, 
And  all  else  I'd  resign 

That  a  man  could  resone, 
And  surely  no  other  could  pine  as  I  lately  have  pone. 

And  don't  you  forget 

You  will  ne'er  be  forgot, 
You  never  should  fret 

As  at  times  you  have  frot, 

I  would  chase  all  the  cares  that  beset,  if  they  ever 
besot. 

For  you  I  would  weave 

Songs  that  never  were  wove, 
And  deeds  I'd  achieve 

Which  no  man  yet  achove, 

And  for  me  you  never  should  grieve,  as  for  you  I 
have  grove, 

[4] 


Logical   Whimseys 


I'm  as  worthy  a  catch 
As  ever  was  caught. 
O,  youPanswer  I  watch 

As  a  man  never  waught, 

And  we'd  make  the  most  elegant  match  as  ever  was 
maught. 

Let  my  longings  not  sink; 

I  would  die  if  they  sunk. 
O,  I  ask  you  to  think 

As  you  never  have  thunk, 

And  our  fortunes  and  lives  let  us  link,  as  no  lives 
could  be  lunk. 

A.  W.  Bellow. 


LOVE'S  MOODS  AND  SENSES 

SALLY  SALTER,  she  was  a  young  lady  who 
taught, 

And  her  friend  Charley  Church  was  a  preach- 
er who  praught! 

Though  his  enemies  called  him  a  screecher  who 
scraught. 

His  heart  when  he  saw  her  kept  sinking  and  sunk, 
And  his  eye,  meeting  hers,  began  winking  and  wunk; 
While  she  in  her  turn  fell  to  thinking,  and  thunk. 

He  hastened  to  woo  her,  and  sweetly  he  wooed, 
For  his  love  grew  until  to  a  mountain  it  grewed, 
And  what  he  was  longing  to  do  then  he  doed. 

[5] 


A    Whimsey   Anthology 

In  secret  he  wanted  to  speak,  and  he  spoke, 

To  seek  with  his  lips  what  his  heart  long  had  soke; 

So  he  managed  to  let  the  truth  leak,  and  it  loke. 

He  asked  her  to  ride  to  the  church,  and  they  rode, 
They  so  sweetly  did  glide,  that  they  both  thought 

they  glode, 
And  they  came  to  the  place  to  be  tied,  and  were 

tode. 

Then,  "homeward"  he  said,  "let  us  drive"  and 

they  drove, 

And  soon  as  they  wished  to  arrive,  they  arrove; 
For  whatever  he  couldn't  contrive  she  controve. 

The  kiss  he  was  dying  to  steal,  then  he  stole: 
At  the  feet  where  he  wanted  to  kneel,  then  he  knole, 
And  said,  "I  feel  better  than  ever  I  fole." 

So  they  to  each  other  kept  clinging,  and  clung; 
While  time  his  swift  circuit  was  winging,  and  wung; 
And  this  was  the  thing  he  was  bringing,  and  brung: 

The  man  Sally^wanted  to  catch,  and  had  caught — 
That  she  wanted  from  others  to  snatch,  and  had 

snaught — 
Was  the  one  that  she  now  liked  to  scratch,  and 

she  scraught. 

And  Charley's  warm  love  began  freezing  and  froze, 

While  he  took  to  teasing,  and  cruelly  toze 

The  girl  he  had  wished  to  be  squeezing  and  squoze. 

[6] 


Logical   Whimseys 


"Wretch!"  he  cried,  when  she  threatened  to  leave 

him,  and  left, 

"How  could  you  deceive  me,  as  you  have  deceft?" 
And   she   answered,  "I   promised  to  cleave,  and 

I've  cleft!" 

Anonymous. 

AN  ORIGINAL  LOVE  STORY 

HE  struggled  to  kiss  her.     She  struggled  the 
same 

To  prevent  him  so  bold  and  undaunted. 
But,  as  smitten  by  lightning,  he  heard  her  exclaim, 
"Avaunt,  sir!"  and  off  he  avaunted. 

But  when  he  returned,  with  a  wild  fiendish  laugh, 
Showing  clearly  that  he  was  affronted, 

And  threaten'd  by  main  force  to  carry  her  off, 
She  cried  "Don't!"  and  the  poor  fellow  domed. 

When  he  meekly  approached,  and  sat  down  at  her 
feet, 

Praying  loudly,  as  before  he  had  ranted, 
That  she  would  forgive  him,  and  try  to  be  sweet, 

And  said  "Can't  you!"  the  dear  girl  recanted. 

Then  softly  he  whispered,  "How  could  you  do  so? 

I  certainly  thought  I  was  jilted; 
But  come  thou  with  me,  to  the  parson  we'll  go; 

Say,  wilt  thou,  my  dear?"  and  she  wilted. 

Anonymous. 

[7] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


"QUERIES" 

A  BRED  and  born  philologist  is  what  I  claim 
to  be, 
But  find  that  there  are  many  things  that 

greatly  puzzle  me. 
For  instance,  take  a  cricket  ball;  you  buy  it — then 

it's  bought, 
But  if  you  take  and  shy  it,  is  it  right  to  say  it's 

short  ? 
A  drummer  is  a  man,  we  know,  who  has  to  do 

with  drums, 
But  I  never  met  a  plumber  yet  who  had  to  do  with 

plums. 
A  cheerful   man  who  sells  you  hats  would  be  a 

cheerful  hatter; 

But  is  a  serious  man  who  sells  you  mats  "a  serious 
matter  "  ? 

You  take  your  girl  to  Yarmouth,  then  you  are  a 
pair  of  trippers; 

If  you  slipped  with  her  while  skating,  would  you 
be  a  pair  of  slippers? 

If  it  freezes  when  it's  frosty,  is  it  squosty  when 
you  squeeze  ? 

Would  you  have  to  buy  a  biograph  to  write  biog- 
raphies ? 

A  man  is  called  a  baker  when  to  earn  his  bread 
he  bakes; 

But  do  we  call  a  Quaker  by  that  name  because 
he  quakes  ? 

[8] 


Logical    Whimseys 


But  if  you  are  a  dealer,  why,  of  course  you  have 

to  deal, 
But  you  may  be  a  peeler,  though  you  never  have 

to  peel. 

A  man  who  brews,  as  everybody  knows,  is  called 

a  brewer; 
But  if  your  landlord  sues  you,  would  you  say  he 

is  a  sewer? 
A  girl  will  change  the  color  of  the  hair  upon  her 

head; 
It's  strange;  but,  still,  you'll  find  that  though  she 

dyed,  she  isn't  dead. 
Would  a  pious  man  who  fried  a  kipper  be  a  holy 

friar? 
A  timid  man  who  lies    in    bed — is  he  "a  fearful 

liar"? 

If  with  mud  you  find  you're  spattered  from  a  pass- 
ing horse's  hoof, 
And  you   use  a   bad   expletive,  would  that   be  a 

"muddied  oaf"? 

W.  Stanford. 


THE    BALLAD    OF    AMEIGHLIA 
MAIREIGH. 

MISS  Amelia  Mary  Cholmondely, 
When  in  summer-time  she  rode, 
Did  not  look  one  whit  less  colmondley 
Than  in  winter  when  she  slode. 

[9] 


A    IV  him  s  ey    A  nt  ho  logy 

As  became  a  farmer's  daughter, 
Milk  she  to  the  market  took; 

Mingled  flour  and  eggs  with  waughter, 
And  delicious  tea-cakes  book. 


By  her  blandishments  the  neighing 
Colts  and  bleating  sheep  were  caught; 

And,  they  tell  me,  there's  no  seighing 
What  a  lot  of  ricks  she  thaught. 

At  her  orders  farm-yard  beauties — 
Turkeys,  geese,  and  hens — were  slain; 

From  her  purse,  for  weekly  deauties, 
All  her  father's  men  were  pain. 

Mary,  too,  was  always  present 

When  the  frisky  lambs  were  shorn; 

And  the  chicks  of  many  a  phesent 
By  her  careful  hands  were  rorn. 

'Spite  of  Mary's  fond  endeavour, 
Once  her  favorite  lap-dog  swam 

Far  from  land  and  sank  foreavour, 
And  her  eyes  with  sorrow  dam. 

Girl  more  kind  or  better-hearted 

Ne'er  in  all  my  life  I  saw; 
Scores  of  swains  for  Mary  smearted, 

She  was  perfect,  all  agraw. 
[10] 


Logical   Whimseys 


Thus,  when  to  Elisha  Farquhar 
Hand  and  heart  at  last  she  gave, 

Though  he  was  a  billiard-marqahar, 
Happily  with  him  she  lave. 

Anonymous. 


THE   PEARL  OF  PALENCIA 

NO  maiden  in  Spain  was  more  lovely  to  see 
Than  sweet  Donna  A.,  only  child  of  Don  B., 
"The  Pearl  of  Palencia."    Two  lovers  she 

had, 
Don  C.  (who  was  good)  and  Don  D.  (who  was 

bad). 
'Twas  C.   she   preferred,  but  she  thought  herself 

bound 

To  mind  her  papa,  whom  she  always  had  mound. 
He  said,  "Rich  Don  D.  is  a  'catch*  to  be  caught: 
The  prize  you  must  snatch — it  is  easily  snaught." 
Thus,  though  she  might  feel  just  the  same  as  she'd 

felt, 
She    now   must    conceal   what    she'd    never   con 

celt; 

Not  speak  to  her  love,  though  he  tenderly  spoke, 
Nor  seek  the  affection  she'd  hitherto  soke. 
Don  B.  told  Don  C.  he  must  leave,  and  he  left. 
The  blow  made  him  grieve,  and  most  deeply  he 

greft; 
But   Love's   sun  will   shine,   and   still   brightly   it 

shone. 
When  lovers  combine — as  these  lovers  combone, 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


In  secret  to  meet — as  they  secretly  met, 

Stern  parents  they'll  cheat — as  her  father  was  chet. 

One  night  when  the  moon  on  "the  rise"  gently 

rose, 

Don  D.  in  surprise  the  two  lovers  surprose. 
His    weapon    he    drew;    and    the    moment    'twas 

drawn, 

His  rival  he  slew;  with  a  blow  he  was  slawn. 
Prepared  not  to  smite,  and  so  suddenly  smitten, 
He'd  no  time  to  fight,  or  of  course  he'd  have  fitten, 
His  fate  was  to  fall — what  a  cropper  he  fell! 
A  sight  to  appal.     Donna  A.  it  appel. 
Her  hand,  within  reach,  with  an  effort  he  reach'd, 
And   this   was   the   "last   dying   speech"   that   he 

speech'd: 

"Dear  maid,  fare  thee  well!     Be  my  slayer  for- 
given; 

My  hour,  but  too  quick  to  arrive,  hath  arriven. 
Away  from  existence  I  slide" — and  he  slid. 
"I  die  as  my  fathers  have  died" — and  he  did. 
Oh,   fearful   to   hear  was  the   scream   that   she 

scrempt! 

Her  eyes  did  not  beam  as  they'd  hitherto  bempt, 
But  glared  fit  to  freeze.  The  assassin  they  froze. 
She  shrieked,  "This  I  seize!"-— 'twas  a  dagger 

she  soze. 
"My  loved   one   I   lose — through  thy   deed   he  is 

lost; 
But    had    I    to    choose,   thou    wouldst    never    be 

chost. 

Die,  villain!  Thy  gold  cannot  gild  up  thy  guilt. 
My  will  is  to  kill!"  So  the  villain  she  kilt. 

[   12] 


Logical   Whimseys 


Then  said,  "  Though  my  heart,  doomed  to  break, 

is  now  broken, 

The  vengeance  I  thirsted  to  slake  I  have  sloken." 
So  saying,  she  drank  up  a  poisonous  draught, 
Her  queenly  form  shrank  with  a  terrible  shraft; 
On   C.'s    poor   remains   with   a   wild    fling   'twas 

flung; 
Her  spirit,  which  long'd  to  take  wing,  then  took 

wung. 

Her  pa — "such  a  turn"  the  catastrophe  gave — 
Did  grieve  till  he  grove  himself  into  his  grave. 
So  there  was  an  end — lack-a-day!  woe  is  me! — 
Of  sweet  Donna  A.  and  Dons  B.,  C.,  and  D. 

Walter  Parke. 

OUGH 

AS  a  farmer  was  goinp  to  plough, 
He  met  a  man  driving  a  cough; 
They  had  words  which  led  to  a  rough, 
And  the  farmer  was  struck  on  his  brough. 

One  day  when  the  weather  was  rough, 

An  old  lady  went  for  some  snough, 

Which  she  thoughtlessly  placed  in  her  mough, 

And  it  got  scattered  all  over  her  cough. 

While  a  baker  was  kneading  his  dough, 
A  weight  fell  down  on  his  tough, 
When  he  suddenly  exclaimed  ough! 
Because  it  had  hurt  him  sough. 

[13] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

There  was  a  hole  in  the  hedge  to  get  through, 
It  was  made  by  no  one  knew  whough; 
In  getting  through  a  boy  lost  his  shough, 
And  was  quite  at  a  loss  what  to  dough. 

A  poor  old  man  had  a  bad  cough, 
To  a  doctor  he  straight  went  ough, 
The  doctor  did  nothing  but  scough, 
And  said  it  was  all  fancy,  his  cough. 

Anonymous. 


I 


O-U-G-H* 

A  Fresh  Hack  at  an  Old  Knot 

'M  taught  P-1-o-u-g-h 

S'all  be  pronounce  "plow." 
"Zat's  easy  w'en  you  know,"  I  say, 
"Mon  Anglais,  I'll  get  through!" 


My  teacher  say  zat  in  zat  case, 

O-u-g-h  is" oo." 
An  zen  I  laugh  and  say  to  him, 

"Zees  Anglais  make  me  cough." 

He  say  "Not  'coo,'  but  in  zat  word, 

O-u-g-h  is4  off,'" 
Oh,  Sacre  bleu\  such  varied  sounds 

Of  words  makes  my  hiccough! 

*  By  permission  of  Harper  &  Brothers. 


Logical   Whimseys 


He  say,  "Again  mon  frien'  ees  wrong; 

O-u-g-h  is  'up* 
In  hiccough."     Zen  I  cry,  "No  more, 

You  make  my  t'roat  feel  rough." 

"Non,  non!"  he  cry,  "you  are  not  right; 

O-u-g-h  is'uff."5 
I  say,  "I  try  to  spik  your  words, 

I  cannot  spik  zem  though!" 

"In  time  you'll  learn,  but  now  you're  wrong! 

O-u-g-h  is  'owe.'" 
"I'll  try  no  more,  I  s'all  go  mad, 

Til  drown  me  in  ze  lough!" 

"  But  ere  you  drown  yourself,"  said  he, 

"O-u-g-h  is'ock" 
He  taught  no  more,  I  held  him  fast, 

And  killed  him  wiz  a  rough. 

Charles  Battell  Loomis. 


ow 

NOW,  boys,"  the  farmer  said,  "there'll  be  a 
row 

If  you  upon  the  river  go  and  row 
When  we've  so  much  to  do.     The  Chester  sow 

Has  rooted  up  the  lawn;  therein  go  sow 
Some  clover-seed;  then  help  clear  out  the  mow. 
In  which  to  put  the  hay  that  we  shall  mow 

[15] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

To-morrow  morn;  when  that  is  done  I  'low 
You  may,  if  then  the  sun  is  not  too  low, 
Go  hunt  and  fish/'     So  to  our  work  we  bow; 
Which  done,  we're  off,  with  arrows,  rod,  and 
bow. 

Anonymous. 


ADIOUX  AMONG  THE  SIOUX 

NOW  trouble  brious  among  the  Sioux, 
Because  the  whites  their  rights  abioux. 
The  sky  is  red  with  battle  hioux; 
Big  Injun,  squaw,  and  young  pappioux 
Are  on  the  war-path  by  the  slioux; 
They're  filling  up  with  fiery  bioux, 
They  swear  their  lands  they  will  not  lioux. 

Anonymous. 


o 


JOB 

UR  hired  man  named  Job 
Has  got  a  pleasant  job, 
The  meadow  grass  to  mow 
And  stow  it  in  the  mow. 


At  work  he  takes  the  lead; 
He  does  not  fear  cold  lead, 
Nor  is  he  moved  to  tears 
When  he  his  clothing  tears! 
[16] 


Logical    Whimseys 


A  book  that  he  had  read; 

He  handed  me  to  read; 

He  spends  much  time  in  reading 

When  at  his  home  in  Reading. 

Anonymous. 

THE  COW— A  BOVINITY 


O 


gentle  cau, 
Contented  frau, 

Inert,  exempt  from  violence. 
We  will  allau 

That  you  know  hau 
To  chew  your  cud  in  siolence. 

Anonymous. 


HALF  HOURS  WITH  THE  CLASSICS 

AH,  those  hours  when  by-gone  sages 
Led  our  thoughts  through  Learning's  ways, 
When  the  wit  of  sunnier  ages, 

Called  once  more  to  Earth  the  days 
When  rang  through  Athens*  vine-hung  lanes 
Thy  wild,  wild  laugh,  Aristophanes! 

Pensive  through  the  land  of  Lotus, 

Sauntered  we  by  Nilus'  side; 
Garrulous  old  Herodotus 

Still  our  mentor,  still  our  guide, 
Prating  of  the  mystic  bliss 
Of  Isis  and  of  Osiris. 

[17] 


A    Whimsey   Anthology 

All  the  learn Jd  ones  trooped  before  us, 
All  the  wise  of  Hellas'  land, 

Down  from  mythic  Pythagoras, 
To  the  hemlock  drinker  grand. 

Dark  the  hour  that  closed  the  gates 

Of  gloomy  Dis  on  thee,  Socrates. 

Ah,  those  hours  of  tend'rest  study, 

When  Electra's  poet  told 
Of  Love's  cheek  once  warm  and  ruddy, 

Pale  with  grief,  with  death  chill  cold! 
Sobbing  low  like  summer  tides 
Flow  thy  verses,  Euripides! 

High  our  hearts  beat  when  Cicero 
Shook  the  Capitolian  dome; 

How  we  shuddered,  watching  Nero 
'Mid  the  glare  of  blazing  Rome! 

How  those  records  still  affright  us 

On  thy  gloomy  page,  Tacitus! 

Back  to  youth  I  seem  to  glide,  as 
I  recall  those  by-gone  scenes, 

When  we  conned  o'er  Thucydides, 
Or  recited  Demosthenes. 


L'ENVOI 

Ancient  sages,  pardon  these 
Somewhat  doubtful  quantities. 

H.  J.  DeBurgh. 

[18] 


Logical   Whimseys 


SHAKE,  MULLEARY  AND  GO-ETHE 

I 

I  HAVE  a  bookcase,  which  is  what 
Many  much  better  men  have  not. 
There  are  no  books  inside,  for  books, 
I  am  afraid,  might  spoil  its  looks. 
But  I've  three  busts,  all  second-hand, 
Upon  the  top.     You  understand 
I  could  not  put  them  underneath — 
Shake,  Mulleary  and  Go-ethe. 


II 


Shake  was  a  dramatist  of  note; 
He  lived  by  writing  things  to  quote, 
He  long  ago  put  on  his  shroud: 
Some  of  his  works  are  rather  loud. 
His  bald-spot's  dusty,  I  suppose. 
I  know  there's  dust  upon  his  nose.- 
I'll  have  to  give  each  nose  a  sheath — 
Shake,  Mulleary  and  Go-ethe.. 

Ill 

Mulleary's  line  was  quite  the  same; 
He  has  more  hair,  but  far  less  fame. 

[19] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

I  would  not  from  that  fame  retrench- 
But  he  is  foreign,  being  French. 
Yet  high  his  haughty  head  he  heaves, 
The  only  one  done  up  in  leaves, 
They're  rather  limited  on  wreath — 
Shake,  Mulleary  and  Go-ethe. 


IV 

Go-ethe  wrote  in  the  German  tongue: 
He  must  have  learned  it  very  young. 
His  nose  is  quite  a  butt  for  scoff, 
Although  an  inch  of  it  is  off. 
He  did  quite  nicely  for  the  Dutch; 
But  here  he  doesn't  count  for  much. 
They  all  are  off  their  native  heath — 
Shake,  Mulleary  and  Go-ethe. 


They  sit  there,  on  their  chests,  as  bland 

As  if  they  were  not  second-hand. 

I  do  not  know  of  what  they  think, 

Nor  why  they  never  frown  or  wink. 

But  why  from  smiling  they  refrain 

I  think  I  clearly  can  explain: 

They  none  of  them  could  show  much  teeth — 

Shake,  Mulleary  and  Go-ethe. 

H.  C.  Bunner. 
[20] 


SHAPED    WHIMSEYS 


THE  WINE  GLASS 

Who  hath  woe  ?  Who  hath  sorrow  ?  Who 

hath  contentions  ?   Who  hath  wounds 

without  cause?    Who  hath  redness 

of  eyes?  They  that  tarry  long 

at     the     wine!      They     that 

go    to    seek    mixed    wine! 

Look  not  thou  upon  the 

wine   when    it    is    red, 

when     it     giveth 

its   color 

in  the 

cup, 

when  it 

moveth  itself 

aright. 

At 

the  last  it 

biteth  like  a  serpent 
and  stingeth  like  an  adder! 

(Proverbs  xxiii,  29-32.) 


[21] 


A    W him s ey   Anthology 


SONG   OF   THE    DECANTER 

There    was    an    old    decan- 
ter,   and    its    mouth    was 
gaping     wide;     the 
rosy      wine      had 
ebbed  away 
and    left 
its    crys- 
tal      side: 
and    the    wind 
went   humming — 
humming 
up  and 
down:  the 
wind  it  blew, 
and  through  the 

reed-like 
hollow     neck 
the  wildest  notes  it 
blew.     I  placed  it  in  the 
window,  where  the  blast  was 
blowing  free,  and  fancied  that  its 
pale  mouth  sang  the  queerest  strains  to 
me.     "They  tell  me — puny   conquerors!   the 
Plague   has   slain   his   ten,    and   war   his   hundred 
thousand  of  the  very  best  of  men;  but  I" — 'twas 
thus  the  Bottle  spake — "  but  I  have  conquered 
more    than    all    your    famous    conquerors,    so 
feared   and   famed   of  yore.     Then   come,  ye 
youths   and   maidens   all,   come   drink   from 
out   my   cup,    the    beverage   that   dulls   the 
brain  and  burns  the  spirits  up;  that  puts 
to  shame  vour  conquerors  that  slay  their 
scores  below;  for  this  has  deluged  mil- 
lions with  the  lava  tide  of  woe.      Tho' 
in  the  path  of  battle  darkest  streams 
of  blood  may  roll;  yet  while  I  killed 
the  body,  I  have  damn'd  the  very 
soul.        The  cholera,  the  plague, 
the  sword,  such  ruin  never  wro't, 
as  I  in  mirth  or  malice  on  the 
innocent  have  brought.      And 
still  I  breathe  upon  them,  and 
they  shrink  before  my  breath, 
and  year  by  year  my  thousands 
tread  the  dusty  way   of  death." 

Anonymous. 


[22] 


Shaped   Whimseys 


THE   FLAGON 

Que     mon 

f  1  a  c  o  n 

me    semble    bon! 

Sans    lui 

I  '  e  n  n  u  i 

me    nuit, 

me    suit; 

j  e    sens 

mes  sens 

mourants, 

pes  a  n  t  s. 

Quand   je   le  tiens, 

Dieux!    que   je    suis    bien! 

que     son     aspect     est     agreable! 

que  je  fais  cas  de  ses  divins  presens! 

C'est  de  son  sein  fecond,  c'est  de  ses  heureux 

flancs  que  coule  ce  nectar  si  doux,  si  delectable, 

qui  rend  tous  les  esprits,  tous  les  coeurs  satisfaits! 

Cher  objet  de  mes  voeux,  tu  fais  toute  ma  gloire. 

Tant  que  mon  cceur  vivra,  de  tes  charmants  bien- 

faits   il   saura   conserver  la   fidele   memoire. 

Pannard. 


[23] 


A    W 'him  s  ey    Anthology 


THE   GLASS 

Nous  ne  pouvons  rien  trouver  sur  la  terre 

qui  soit  si  bon  ni  si  beau  que  le  verre. 

Du  tendre  amour  berceau  charmant, 

c'est      toi,      champetre      fougere, 

c'est     toi      qui     sers     a     faire 

Theureux         instrument 

ou       souvent       petille, 

mousse,     et     brille 

le     jus     qui     rend 

g  a  i  ,     riant, 

content. 

Quelle       douceur 

il     porte     au     coeur 

tot 

tot 

tot 

Qu'on  m'en  donne 

vite  et  comme  il  faut 

tot 

tot 

tot 

qu'on  m'en  donne 

vite  et  comme  il  faut. 

L'on    y    voit    sur    ses    flots 

cheris  nager  1'allegresse  et  les  ris. 

Pannard. 


[24] 


Shaped    Whimseys 


BAIT   OF   THE   AVERAGE   FISHERMAN 

This  is  the  bait 
the   fisher- 
men   take, 

the  fishermen  take,  the  fisher- 
men  take,  when   they   start  out  the   fish   to 
wake,  so  early  in  the  morning.     They  take  a  nip  be- 
fore they   go  —  a   good   one,   ah!   and   long  and   slow, 
for   fear   the   chills   will    lay   them    low,    so   early   in 
the    morning.        Another  —  when    they're    on    the 
street,    which    they    repeat    each    time    they    meet 
for    "  luck "  —  for    that's    the    way    to    greet    a 
fisher    in    the    morning.      And    when    they    are 
on   the   river's    brink    again   they   drink   with- 
out   a    wink  —  to    fight    malaria    they   think 
it    proper    in    the    morning.      They    tip    a 
flask    with    true    delight    when    there's    a 
bite;    if    fishing's    light    they    "smile" 
the    more,    till    jolly    tight    all    fishing 
they   are   scorning.      Another  nip   as 
they   depart;  one   at  the   mart   and 
one   to    part;    but    none    when    in 
the    house    they    dart    expecting 
there'll      be     mourning.      This 
is  the  bait  the  fishermen  try, 
who    fishes     buy    at    prices 
high,    and    tell    each    one 
a    bigger    lie    of    fishing 
in    the     morning. 

H.  C.  Dodge. 


[25] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


A   TYPE   OF   BEAUTY 

Here 

hang  my  bangs 
o'er  eyes  that  dream, 
And  nose  and  rose- 
bud lips  for  cream. 
And   here's   my 
chin   with   dim- 
ples in. 
This  is  my 
neck    with- 
out a  speck, 

which  doth  these  snowy  shoulders 
deck  ;    and    here    is  —  see,    oh, 
double  T-O-N,  which  girls  all 
wear,  like  me;  and  here's  a 
heart,  from  cupid's  dart,  safe- 
shielded  by  this  corset's  art. 
This  is  my  waist  too  tightly 
laced    on  which 
a  bustle  big 
is  placed. 
This  is  my 
dress.     Its  cost, 
I    guess,    did    my 
poor  papa  much  dis- 
tress, because  he  sighed 
when  mamma  tried  it  on, 
and    scolded    so    I    cried; 
Lut  mamma  said  I  soon  would 
wed  and  buy  pa's  clothes  for  him 
instead.       It's  trimmed  with  lace 
just  in  this  place,  'neath  which  two 
ankles  show,  with  grace,  in  silken  hose 
to  catch  the  beaus  who  think  they're  lovely, 
I  suppose.         These  are 
my  feet         in  slippers 
neat,    and         now  if  we 
should  chance  to         meet   we'll   flirt 
a  little  on  the         street.  How  sweet. 

Anonymous. 

[26] 


Shaped   Whimseys 


THE   STEGOMYIA 


is 

long 

and  wick- 
ed, and 

is 

filled 

with  deadly 

juice  and  you 

needn't        try          to          dodge  it       for       it 

won't  be  any  use; 

it 

Will 

chase 

you  up 

and  catch 

you  and 

with  woe  will 

fill  your  cup; 

oh,  the  steg- 

omyia'll  get 

you  if  you 

don't  clean 


up 


[27] 


Anonymous. 


A    W him s ey   Anthology 


LITTLE    BOYS   TAKE   WARNING 

Two  little  boys,  named  Jack  and  Jim, 

In  hot,  or  wintry  weather, 
No  matter  what  the  racket  was 

Most  always  were  together. 


But  one  day  Jack  went  to  the  stream 

To  take  a  little  swim; 
He  got  a  cramp,  which  laid  him  out, 

And  here's  the  last  of  him: 


oj- 


Jim  tackled  the  green-apple  crop, 

And  twenty-four  he  ate; 
He  got  a  cramp,  which  bent  him  s< 

They  couldn  t  jerk  him  straight. 


Anonymous. 


[28] 


Shaped    Whimseys 

THE   TALE   OF   A   MOUSE* 

"  Fury  said  to 
a  mouse,  That 
he  met 
in  the 
house, 
4  Let  us 
both  go 
to  law : 
/  will 
prosecute 

Vi'U. 

Come,  I'll 
take  no 
denial ; 
We  must 

have  a 
trial : 

For 
really 
this 
morning 

I've 
nothing 
to  do.' 
Said  the 
mouse  to 
the  i nr. 

•  Such  a 
trial, 
dear  sir, 
With  no 
jury  or 
judge, 
would  be 
wasting 

our  breath.' 
Til  be 


siT' 

cunning 
old  Fury ; 
Til  try 

the  whole 

cause, 

and 

condemn 
you 
to 
death.'  " 


Lewis  Carroll. 


*  By  permission  of  the  Macmillan  Company. 

[29] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


THE   MICE* 

We  lived  beneath  the  mat, 

Warm  and  snug  and  fat. 
But  one  woe,  and  that 

Was  the  cat  ! 
To  our  joys 

a  clog,  In 
our  eyes  a 
fog,  On  our 
hearts  a  log 
Was  the  dog  ! 
When  the 
cat's  away 
Then 
the  mice 
will 
play. 
But,  alas  ! 

one  day  (so  they  say) 

Came  the  dog  and 

cat.     Hunting 
for  a 
rat 

Crushed 
the  mice 
all  flat. 
Each 
one 
as 
he 
sat 


.. 
J 


Lewis  Carroll. 

*  By  permission  of  the  Macmillan  Company. 

[30] 


Shaped   Whims eys 


THE   OLD   LINE   FENCE 

ZIG-ZAGGING  it  went 

On    the    line    of    the    farm, 

And    the    trouble    it    caused 

Was     often     quite     warm, 

The      Old      Line      Fence. 
It  was  changed  every  year 
By    decree    of  the    court, 
To  which,  when  worn  out, 
Our     sires     would     resort 
With  the  Old  Line  Fence. 

In      hoeing     their     corn, 

When  the  sun,  too,  was  hot, 

They    surely    would    jaw, 

Punch  or  claw,when  they  got 

To    the    Old    Line    Fence. 
In      dividing     the     lands 
It     fulfilled     no     desires, 
But    answered    quite    well 
In      dividing     our     sires, 
This     Old     Line     Fence. 

Though  sometimes  in  this 

It   would    happen   to   fail, 

When,  with  top  rail  in  hand, 

One  would  flare  up  and  scale 
The      Old     Line     Fence! 


[31] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Then  the  conflict  was  sharp 
On       debatable       ground, 
And   the   fertile   soil   there 
Would  be  mussed  far  around 
The      Old      Line      Fence. 

It     was     shifted     so     oft 

That  no  flowers  there  grew. 

What  frownings  and  clods, 

And  what  words  were  shot 
[through 

The     Old     Line      Fence! 
Our  sires  through  the  day 
There  would  quarrel  or  fight, 
With     a     vigor     or     vim, 
But  'twas  different  at  night 
By    the    Old    Line    Fence. 

The     fairest     maid     there 

You  would   have  descried 

That     ever     leaned      soft 

On      the      opposite      side 

Of    an    Old    Line    Fence. 
Where  our  fathers  built  hate 
There  we  builded  our  love, 
Breathed  our  vows  to  be  true 
With  our  hands  raised  above 
The      Old      Line      Fence. 

Its  place  might  be  changed, 

But  there  we  would  meet. 

With  our  heads  through  the 
[rails, 
And  with  kisses  most  sweet, 

At    the    Old    Line    Fence. 


[32] 


Shaped    Whimseys 


It  was  love  made  the  change, 
And  the  clasping  of  hands 
Ending     ages      of     hate, 
And  between  us  now  stands 
Not  a  Sign  of  Line  Fence. 

No       debatable       ground 

Now      enkindles      alarms. 

I've  the  girl  I  met  there, 

And,  well,  both  of  the  farms, 
And      No      Line      Fence. 

A.  W.  Bellow. 


[33] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


JONES'S  RIDE 

The  scenery  was  simply  grand, 
The  day  was  one  of  bliss, 

And  so  his  auto,  for  a  time, 
Ran  straight  along  like  this. 

The  whatyoucallit  snapped  in  two 

When  something  went  amiss, 
And  with  a  snort  and  sudden  plunge 


dug     a      hole 


Unsatisfied  with  lowly  earth 
It  gave  a  screech  and  hiss, 
And  to  the  wonderment  of  Jones 


(X 

3 


- 
<D    tuo  +3 

t>      •  ^M 

l>    ^    <u 

«  a-H 


'Twas  thus  they  vanished  out  of  view 

Above  the  gazing  town; 
The  fifth  verse  of  the  poem  shows 

How  much  of  both  came  down. 

McLandburgb  Wilson* 

[34] 


Shaped    Whimseys 


ON  THE  STREET 

He  bought  a  little  block  of  stock 

The  day  he  went  to  town; 
And  in  the  nature  of  such  things, 

That 

Stock 

Went 

Right 

Straight 

Down! 
*  *  *  * 

He  sold  a  little  block  of  stock: 

Now  sorrow  fills  his  cup, 
For  from  the  moment  that  he  did, 

Up. 

Right 

Went 

Thing 

Blamed 

The 
*  *  *  * 

He  bought  a  little  block  of  stock, 

Expecting  he  would  taste  of  bliss; 
He  can't  let  go  and  can't  hang  on, 


Anonymous 

[35] 


A    Whims  ey    Anthology 


AVOIRDUPOIS 


The  length  of  this  line  indicates  the  ton  of  coal  as  dug  by  the  miner. 

This  one  indicates  the  ton  shipped  to  the  dealer. 

The  small  dealer  gets  a  ton   like  this. 

This  is  the  one  you  pay  for. 

This  is  what  you  get. 

The  residue  is: 

Cinders  and 

Ashes. 
And  this  line  will  give  you  some  conception  of  the  size  of  the  BIL 

Anonymou 


A  CUBIC  TRIOLET 

THI  S  TRIOLET 
I  S  L  I  T  T  L/E  FUN 
S  OIH  A  R  DfT  OlG  E  T 
THIS/TR!IOLET 
I  N'FUNAND'YET 
EXACTLYDONE 
THISTRIOLET 
ISLITTLEFUN 

Anonymou 


[36] 


ALPHABETICAL   WHIMSEYS 


THE  SIEGE  OF  BELGRADE 

AN  Austrian  army,  awfully  array'd, 
Boldly  by  battery  besiege  Belgrade; 
Cossack  commanders  cannonading  come, 
Deal  devastation's  dire  destructive  doom; 
Ev'ry  endeavour  engineers  essay, 
For  fame,  for  freedom,  fight,  fierce  furious  fray. 
Gen'rals  'gainst  gen'rals  grapple, — gracious  God! 
How  honors  Heav'n  heroic  hardihood! 
Infuriate,  indiscriminate  in  ill, 
Just  Jesus,  instant  innocence  instill! 
Kinsmen  kill  kinsmen,  kindred  kindred  kill. 
Labour  low  levels  longest,  loftiest  lines; 
Men  march  'midst  mounds,  motes,  mountains,  mur- 

d'rous  mines. 

Now  noisy,  noxious  numbers  notice  nought, 
Of  outward  obstacles  o'ercoming  ought; 
Poor  patriots  perish,  persecution's  pest! 
Quite  quiet  Quakers  "Quarter,  quarter,"  quest; 
Reason  returns,  religion,  right,  redounds, 
Suwarrow  stop  such  sanguinary  sounds! 
Truce  to  thee,  Turkey,  terror  to  thy  train! 
Unwise,  unjust,  unmerciful  Ukraine! 
Vanish  vile  vengeance,  vanish  victory  vain! 

[37] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Why  wish  we  warfare?  wherefore  welcome  won 

Xerxes,  Xantippus,  Xavier,  Xenophon? 

Yield,  ye  young  Yaghier  yeomen,  yield  your  yell! 

Zimmerman's,  Zoroaster's,  Zeno's  zeal 

Again  attract;  arts  against  arms  appeal. 

All,  all  ambitious  aims,  avaunt,  away! 

Et  cetera,  et  cetera,  et  cetera. 

Anonymous. 


A,  B,  c 

A  IS  an  Angel  of  blushing  eighteen: 
B  is  the  Ball  where  the  Angel  was  seen: 
C  is  her  Chaperon,  who  cheated  at  cards: 
D   is  the  Deuxtemps,  with  Frank  of  the  Guards: 
E    is  her  Eye,  killing  slowly  but  surely: 
F    is  the  Fan,  whence  it  peeped   so   demurely: 
G   is  the  Glove  of  superlative  kid: 
H    is  the  Hand  which  it  spitefully  hid: 
I     is  the  Ice  which  the  fair  one  demanded: 
J     is  the  Juvenile,  that  dainty  who  handed: 
K   is  the  Kerchief,  a  rare  work  of  art: 
L    is  the  Lace  which  composed  the  chief  part: 
M  is  the  old  Maid  who  watched  the  chits  dance: 
N   is  the  Nose  she  turned  up  at  each  glance: 
O   is  the  Olga  (just  then  in  its  prime): 
P    is  the  Partner  who  wouldn't  keep  time: 
Q's  the  Quadrille,  put  instead  of  the  Lanciers: 
R's  the  Remonstrances  made  by  the  dancers: 
S     is  the  Supper  where  all  went  in  pairs: 
T   is  the  Twaddle  they  talked  on  the  stairs: 

[38] 


Alphabetical   W hims ey s 

IJ    is  the  Uncle  who  "thought  we'd  be  goin'": 

JV    is  the  Voice  which  his  niece  replied  "No"  in: 

[W  is  the  Waiter,  who  sat  up  till  eight: 

K    is  his  Exit,  not  rigidly  straight: 

Pf    is  a  Yawning  fit  caused  by  the  Ball: 

fe    stands  for  Zero,  or  nothing  at  all. 

C.    S.    Calverley. 


MONORHYMED  ALPHABET 

VWAS  an  Army  to  settle  disputes; 
B  was  a  Bull,  not  the  mildest  of  brutes; 
C  was  a  Cheque,  duly  drawn  upon  Coutts; 
D  was  King  David,  with  harps  and  with  lutes; 
E    was  an  Emperor,  hailed  with  salutes; 
F    was  a  Funeral,  followed  by  mutes; 
G   was  a  Gallant  in  Wellington  boots; 
H  was  a  Hermit,  and  lived  upon  roots; 
I     was  Justinian  his  Institutes; 
K  was  a  Keeper,  who  commonly  shoots; 
L    was  a  Lemon,  the  sourest  of  fruits; 
M  was  a  Ministry — say  Lord  Bute's; 
N   was  Nicholson,  famous  on  flutes; 
O  was  an  Owl,  that  hisses  and  hoots; 
P    was  a  Pond,  full  of  leeches  and  newts; 
Q   was  a  Quaker,  in  whitey-brown  suits; 
R   was  a  Reason,  which  Paley  refutes; 
S    was  a  Sergeant  with  twenty  recruits; 
T   was  Ten  Tories  with  doubtful  reputes; 
U   was  Uncommonly  bad  cheroots; 
V    was  Vicious  motives,  which  malice  imputes; 

[39] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

X   was  Ex-king  driven  out  by  emeutes; 

Y    is  a  Yawn;  then,  the  last  rhyme  that  suits; 

Z    is  the  Zuyder  Zee,  dwelt  in  by  coots. 

Anonymous. 


MONORHYMED  ALPHABET 

A  IS  my  Amy,  so  slender  of  waist; 
B's  little  Bet,  who  my  button  replaced; 
C  is  good  Charlotte,  good  maker  of  paste;  j 
D   is  Diana,  the  forest  who  traced; 
E    is  plump  Ellen,  by  Edward  embraced; 
F    is  poor  Fanny,  by  freckles  defaced; 
G   is  Griselda,  unfairly  disgraced; 
H    is  the  Helen,  who  Ilion  effaced; 
I     is  fair  Ida,  that  princess  strait-laced; 
J     is  the  Judy,  Punch  finds  to  his  taste; 
K   is  Kate  darling,  by  fond  lovers  chased; 
L    is  Laurette,  in  coquetry  encased; 
M  is  pale  Margaret,  saintly  and  chaste; 
N   is  gay  Norah,  o'er  hills  who  has  raced; 
O   is  sweet  Olive,  a  girl  olive-faced; 
P's  pretty  Patty,  so  daintily  paced; 
Q   some  fair  Querist,  in  blue  stockings  placed; 
R    is  frail  Rose,  from  her  true  stem  displaced; 
S     is  brisk  Sal,  who  a  chicken  can  baste; 
T   is  Theresa,  at  love  who  grimaced; 
U   is  pure  Una,  that  maid  undebased; 
V    is  Victoria,  an  empire  who  graced; 
W  is  Winifred,  time  who  will  waste; 
X   is  Xantippe,  for  scolding  well  braced; 

[40] 


Alphabetical    W  him  s  ey  s 

Y's  Mrs.  Yelverton;  ending  in  haste, 
Z    is  Zenobia,  in  panoply  cased. 

Mortimer  Collins. 


MEMORANDUMS  * 

HAVE  Angleworms  attractive  homes? 
Do  Bumble-bees  have  brains  ? 
Do  Caterpillars  carry  combs  ? 
Do  Dodos  dote  on  drains? 
Can  Eels  elude  elastic  earls? 

Do  Flatfish  fish  for  flats? 
Are  Grigs  agreeable  to  girls? 

Do  Hares  have  hunting-hats? 
Do  Ices  make  an  Ibex  ill? 

Do  Jackdaws  jug  their  jam  ? 
Do  Kites  kiss  all  the  kids  they  kill? 

Do  Llamas  live  on  lamb? 
Will  Moles  molest  a  mounted  mink? 

Do  Newts  deny  the  news? 
Are  Oysters  boisterous  when  they  drink  ? 

Do  parrots  prowl  in  pews? 
Do  Quakers  get  their  quills  from  quails? 

Do  Rabbits  rob  on  roads? 
Are  Snakes  supposed  to  sneer  at  snails? 

Do  Tortoises  tease  toads? 
Can  Unicorns  perform  on  horns? 

Do  vipers  value  veal? 
Do  Weasels  weep  when  fast  asleep? 

Can  Xylophagans  squeal? 

*  By  permission  of  the  Century  Company. 

[41] 


A    IV  him  s  ey    A  nt  holo  gy 

Do  Yaks  in  packs  invite  attacks? 
Are  Zebras  full  of  zeal  ? 

Charles  E.  CarryL 


AN  ANIMAL  ALPHABET 

A    LLIGATOR,  beetle,  porcupine,  whale, 
J-\       Bobolink,  panther,  dragon-fly,  snail, 

Crocodile,  monkey,  buffalo,  hare, 
Dromedary,  leopard,  mud-turtle,  bear, 
Elephant,  badger,  pelican,  ox, 
Flying-fish,  reindeer,  anaconda,  fox, 
Guinea-pig,  dolphin,  antelope,  goose, 
Humming-bird,  weasel,  pickerel,  moose, 
Ibex,  rhinoceros,  owl,  kangaroo, 
Jackal,  opossum,  toad,  cockatoo, 
Kingfisher,  peacock,  anteater,  bat, 
Lizard,  ichneumon,  honey-bee,  rat, 
Mocking-bird,  camel,  grasshopper,  mouse, 
Nightingale,   spider,  cuttle-fish,   grouse, 
Ocelot,  pheasant,  wolverine,  auk, 
Periwinkle,  ermine,  katydid,  hawk, 
Quail,  hippopotamus,  armadillo,  moth, 
Rattlesnake,  lion,  woodpecker,  sloth, 
Salamander,  goldfinch,  angleworm,  dog, 
Tiger,  flamingo,  scorpion,  frog, 
Unicorn,  ostrich,  nautilus,  mole, 
Viper,  gorilla,  basilisk,  sole, 
Whippoorwill,  beaver,  centipede,  fawn, 
Xantho,  canary,  polliwog,  swan, 

[42] 


Alphabetical    Whimseys 

Yellowhammer,  eagle,  hyena,  lark, 
Zebra,  chameleon,  butterfly,  shark. 

Anonymous. 


A 


AN  ANIMAL  ALPHABET 

— The  Absolutely  Abstemious  Ass, 

who  resided  in  a  Barrel,  and  only  lived  on 
Soda  Water  and  Pickled  Cucumbers. 


B— The  Bountiful  Beetle, 

who  always  carried  a  Green  Umbrella  when 

it  didn't  rain, 
and  left  it  at  home  when  it  did. 

C — The  Comfortable  Confidential  Cow, 

who  sate  in  her  Red  Morocco  Arm  Chair  and 
toasted  her  own  Bread  at  the  parlour  Fire. 

D — The  Dolomphious  Duck, 

who  caught  spotted  frogs  for  her  dinner 
with  a  Runcible  Spoon.    , 

E — The  Enthusiastic  Elephant, 

who  ferried  himself  across  the  water  with  the 
Kitchen  Poker  and  a  New  pair  of  Ear-rings. 

F — The  Fizzgiggious  Fish, 

who  always  walked  about  upon  Stilts, 
because  he  had  no  legs. 

[43] 


A    Whimsey   Anthology 

G — The  Good-natured  Gray  Gull, 

who  carried  the  Old  Owl,  and  his  Crimson 

Carpet-bag, 
across  the  river,  because  he  could  not  swim. 

H — The  Hasty  Higgeldipiggledy  Hen, 

who  went  to  market  in  a  Blue  Bonnet  and 

Shawl, 
and  bought  a  Fish  for  Supper. 

I — The  Inventive  Indian, 

who  caught  a  Remarkable  Rabbit  in  a 
Stupendous  Silver  Spoon. 

J — The  Judicious  Jubilant  Jay, 

who  did  up  her  Back  Hair  every  morning 

with  a  Wreath  of  Roses, 
Three  feathers,  and  a  Gold  Pin. 

K — The  Kicking  Kangaroo, 

who  wore  a  Pale  Pink  Muslin  dress 
with  Blue  spots. 

L — The  Lively  Learned  Lobster, 

who  mended  his  own  Clothes  with 
a  Needle  and  Thread. 

M — The  Melodious  Meritorious  Mouse, 
who  played  a  merry  minuet  on  the 
Piano-forte. 

[44] 


Alphabetical   W '  hims  ey  s 

N — The  Nutritious  Newt, 

who  purchased  a  Round  Plum-pudding, 
for  his  granddaughter. 

O — The  Obsequious  Ornamental  Ostrich, 
who  wore  boots  to  keep  his 
feet  quite  dry. 

P— The  Perpendicular  Purple  Polly, 

who  read  the  Newspaper  and  ate  Parsnip  Pie 
with  his  Spectacles. 

Q — The  Queer  Querulous  Quail, 

who  smoked  a  pipe  of  tobacco  on  the  top  of 
a  Tin  Tea-kettle. 

R — The  Rural  Runcible  Raven, 

who  wore  a  White  Wig  and  flew  away 
with  the  Carpet  Broom. 

S — The  Scroobious  Snake, 

who  always  wore  a  Hat  on  his  Head,  for 
fear  he  should  bite  anybody. 

T — The  Tumultuous  Tom-tommy  Tortoise, 
who  beat  a  Drum  all  day  long  in  the 
middle  of  the  wilderness. 

U — The  Umbrageous  Umbrella-maker, 

whose  Face  nobody  ever  saw,  because  it  was 
always  covered  by  his  Umbrella. 

[45] 


A    IVhimsey    Anthology 

V — The  Visibly  Vicious  Vulture, 

who  wrote  some  verses  to  a  Veal-cutlet  in  a 
Volume  bound  in  Vellum. 

W — The  Worrying  Whizzing  Wasp, 

who  stood  on  a  Table,  and  played  sweetly  on  a 
Flute  with  a  Morning  Cap. 

X— The  Excellent  Double-extra  XX 
imbibing  King  Xerxes,  who  lived  a 
long  while  ago. 

Y — The  Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo, 

whose  Head  was  ever  so  much  bigger  than  his 
Body,  and  whose  Hat  was  rather  small. 

Z — The  Zigzag  Zealous  Zebra, 

who  carried  five  Monkeys  on  his  back  all 
the  way  to  Jellibolee. 

Edward  Lear. 


[46] 


TYPOGRAPHICAL  WHIMSEYS 


DIRGE 

To  the  memory  of  Miss  Ellen  Gee,  of  Kew,  who  died  in  conse- 
quence of  being  stung  in  the  eye. 

T}EERLESS  yet  hapless  maid  of  Q! 

Accomplish'd  LN  G! 
Never  again  shall  I  and  U 
Together  sip  our  T. 

For,  ah!  the  Fates,  I  know  not  Y, 
Sent  'midst  the  flowers  a  B, 

Which  ven'mous  stung  her  in  the  I, 
So  that  she  could  not  C. 

LN  exclaim'd,  "Vile  spiteful  B! 

If  ever  I  catch  U 
On  jess'mine,  rosebud,  or  sweet  P, 

I'll  change  your  stinging  Q. 

"I'll  send  you  like  a  lamb  or  U 

Across  th'  Atlantic  C. 
From  our  delightful  village  Q 

To  distant  O  Y  E. 

[47] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

"A  stream  runs  from  my  wounded  I, 

Salt  as  the  briny  C 
As  rapid  as  the  X  or  Y, 

The  OIO  or  D. 

"Then  fare  thee  ill,  insensate  B! 

Who  stung,  nor  yet  knew  Y, 
Since  not  for  wealthy  Durham's  C 

Would  I  have  lost  my  I." 

They  bear  with  tears  fair  LN  G 

In  funeral  R  A, 
A  clay-cold  corse  now  doom'd  to  B 

Whilst  I  mourn  her  DK. 

Ye  nymphs  of  Q,  then  shun  each  B, 

List  to  the  reason  Y; 
For  should  A  B  C  U  at  T, 

He'll  surely  sting  your  I. 

Now  in  a  grave  L  deep  in  Q, 

She's  cold  as  cold  can  B, 
Whilst  robins  sing  upon  A  U 

Her  dirge  and  LEG. 

Anonymous. 

O  D  V 

Containing  a  Full,  True,  and  Particular  Account  of  the  Terrible 
Fate  of  Abraham  Isaacs,  of  Ivy  Lane. 


I 


N  I  V  Lane,  of  C  T  fame, 

There  lived  a  man  D  C, 
And  A  B  I  6  was  his  name, 
Now  mark  his  history. 

[48] 


Typographical   Whimseys 

Long  time  his  conduct  free  from  blame 

Did  merit  LOG, 
Until  an  evil  spirit  came 

In  the  shape  of  O  D  V. 


"O!  that  a  man  into  his  mouth 

Should  put  an  N  M  E 
To  steal  away  his  brains" — no  drouth 

Such  course  from  sin  may  free. 

Well,  A  B  drank,  the  O  T  Loon! 

And  learned  to  swear,  sans  ruth; 
And  then  he  gamed,  and  U  Z  soon 

To  D  V  8  from  truth. 


An  hourly  glass  with  him  was  play, 
He'd  swallow  that  with  phlegm; 

Judge  what  he'd  M  T  in  a  day, 
"X  P  D  Herculem." 


Of  virtue  none  to  sots,  I  trow, 

With  F  E  K  C  prate; 
And  0  of  N  R  G  could  now 

From  A  B  M  N  8. 

Who  on  strong  liquor  badly  dote, 
Soon  poverty  must  know; 

Thus  A  B  in  a  C  D  coat 
Was  shortly  forced  to  go. 

[49] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

From  poverty  D  C  T  he  caught, 

And  cheated  not  A  F  U, 
For  what  he  purchased  paying  0, 

Or  but  an  "I  O  U." 


Or  else  when  he  had  tried  B  4, 

To  shirk  a  debt,  his  wits, 
He'd  cry,  "You  shan't  wait  N  E  more. 

I'll  W  or  quits." 

So  lost  did  I  6  now  APR, 
That  said  his  wife,  said  she, 

"F  U  act  so,  your  fate  quite  clear 
Is  for  I  2  4  C." 

His  inside  soon  was  out  and  out 

More  fiery  than  K  N; 
And  while  his  state  was  thereabout 

A  cough  C  V  R  came. 

He  I  P  K  Q  N  A  tried, 

And  linseed  T  and  rue; 
But  0  could  save  him,  so  he  died 

As  every  I  must  2. 

Poor  wight!  till  black  i'  the  face  he  raved, 

Twas  P  T  S  2  C 
His  latest  spirit  " spirit"  craved — 

His  last  words,  "O  D  V." 

[50] 


Ty p  o  j  r  ap  h  i c  a  I    W ' h  im  s ey  s 


MORAL 

I'll  not  S  A  to  preach  and  prate, 

But  tell  U  if  U  do 
Drink  O  D  V  at  such  R  8, 

Death  will  4  stall  U  2. 

O  U  then  who  A  Y  Z  have, 

Shun  O  D  V  as  a  wraith, 
For  'tis  a  bonus  to  the  grave, 

And  S  A  unto  death. 

Anonymous. 


AN  ALPHABETICAL  WOOING 

LET  others  talk  of  L  N's  eyes, 
And  K  T's  figure  light  and  free, 
Say  L  R,  too,  is  beautiful — 

I  heed  them  not  while  U  I  C. 
U  need  not  N  V  them,  for  U 
X  L  them  all,  my  M  L  E. 
I  have  no  words  when  I  would  tell 

How  much  in  love  with  U  I  B. 
So  sweet  U  R,  my  D  R  E, 
I  love  your  very  PEG; 
And  when  you  speak  or  sing,  your  voice 

Is  like  a  winsome  L  O  D. 
When  URIC,  hope  D  K's, 
I  am  a  mere  non-  NTT. 
Such  F  E  K  C  has  your  smile, 
It  shields  from  N  E  N  M  E. 

[51] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

For  love  so  deep  as  mine,  I  fear, 

There  is  no  other  MED. 
But  that  you  love  me  back  again — 

O,  thought  of  heavenly  X  T  C; 
So,  lest  my  M  T  heart  and  I 

Should  sing  for  love  and  LEG, 
T's  me  no  more — B  Y's,  B  kind, 

O,  M  L  E,  U  R,  I  C! 

Anonymous. 


I 


O  I  C 

'M  in  a  loder  mood  to-day 

&  feel  poetic,  2; 
4  fun  I'll  just  —  off  a  line 
&  send  it  off  2  U. 


I'm  sorry  you've  been  6  O  long; 

Don't  B  disconsolS; 
But  bear  your  ills  with  42de, 

&  they  won't  seem  so  gr8. 

Anonymous. 

THE   ZEALLESS  XYLOGRAPHER  * 

(Dedicated  to  the  End  of  the  Dictionary} 


A 


XYLOGRAPHER  started  to  cross  the  sea 
By  means  of  a  Xanthic  Xebec; 

But,  alas!  he  sighed  for  the  Zuyder  Zee, 
And  feared  he  was  in  for  a  wreck. 

*  By  permission  of  the  Century  Company. 

[52] 


Typographical   Whimseys 

He  tried  to  smile,  but  all  in  vain, 

Because  of  a  Zygomatic  pain; 
And  as  for  singing,  his  cheeriest  tone 

Reminded  him  of  a  Xylophone — 
Or  else,  when  the  pain  would  sharper  grow, 

His  notes  were  as  keen  as  a  Zuffolo. 
And  so  it  is  likely  he  did  not  find 

On  board  Xenodochy  to  his  mind. 
The  fare  was  poor,  and  he  was  sure 

Xerophagy  he  could  not  endure; 
Zoophagous  surely  he  was,  I  aver, 

This  dainty  and  starving  Xylographer. 
Xylophagous  truly  he  could  not  be — 

No  sickly  vegetarian  he! 
He'd  have  blubbered  like  any  old  Zeuglodon 

Had  Xerophthalmia  not  come  on. 
And  the  end  of  it  was  he  never  again 

In  a  Xanthic  Xebec  went  sailing  the  main. 

Mary  Mapes  Dodge 


A  GEOGRAPHICAL  LOVE  SONG 

IN  the  State  of  Mass. 
There  lived  a  lass, 

I  love  to  go  N.  C.; 
No  other  Miss. 
Can  e'er,  I  Wis., 

Be  half  so  dear  to  Me. 
R.  I.  is  blue 
And  her  cheeks  the  hue 

Of  shells  where  waters  swash; 

[53] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


On  her  pink-white  phiz. 
There  Nev.  Ariz. 

The  least  complexion  Wash. 
La. !  could  I  win 
The  heart  of  Minn., 

I'd  ask  for  nothing  more, 
But  I  only  dream 
Upon  the  theme, 

And  Conn,  it  o'er  and  Ore. 
Why  is  it,  pray, 
I  can't  Ala. 

This  love  that  makes  me  111.  ? 
N.  Y.,  O.,  Wy. 
Kan.  Nev.  Ver.  I 

Propose  to  her  my  will  ? 
I  shun  the  task 
'Twould  be  to  ask 

This  gentle  maid  to  wed. 
And  so,  to  press 
My  suit,  I  guess 

Alaska  Pa.  instead.  Anonymous* 

THE   SUNDAY  FISHERMAN 

A    FISHERMAN,  on  angling  bent, 
J-^     One  Sabbath  morning  left  his  tent. 

The  Tent,  A 

He  took  his  can,  and  very  quick 
He  dug  his  fish-worms  with  a  pick. 

The  Pick,  ( The  Worms,  c/j  GO 

[54] 


Ty  p  ogr  ap  hi  c  a  I   W  him  s  ey  $ 

He  thought  he'd  try  for  bass  and  smelt, 
And  fixed  his  fish-bag  to  his  belt. 

The  Belt,  U     The  Bag,  Q 

In  case  some  fish  of  size  he'd  get, 
He  took  along  his  landing-net. 

The  Landing-Net,  ~o 

As  fishermen  get  very  dry, 

They  always  have  a  flask  hard  by. 


The  Flask 


•  4 


As  fishermen  get  hungry,  too, 
Of  pretzels  he  procured  a  few. 

The  Pretzels,  29  2?  3?  ^ 

Some  lines  he  took  along  on  spools 
To  teach  them  to  the  finny  schools. 

The  Spools,  hH      hH     HH 

He  had  some  entertaining  books 
Of  highly-tempered  Limerick  hooks. 

The  Hooks,  J  J  J 

And  thus  prepared,  he  got  his  boat, 
And  out  upon  the  stream  did  float. 

Q 
The  Boat,    (^^ 

[55] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Whene'er  the  wind  began  to  fail 
He  used  the  paddle  with  the  sail. 

The  Paddle,   -C^ 

He  stopped  to  fish,  among  the  sedge, 
A  mile  or  so  below  the  bridge. 

The  Bridge,  ~nrnrnmrn> 

Some  bites  he  straight  began  to  get, 
It  was  the  gallinippers  bit. 

The  Gallinippers,  ^     ^     W 

One  of  his  lines  spun  off  the  reel; 
He  landed  in  the  boat  an  eel. 

The  Eel,  c/2 

Then  quickly  it  began  to  rain, 
But  his  umbrella  was  in  vain. 

The  Umbrella,  ^ 

Above  his  head  the  thunder  crashed, 
And  all  around  the  lightning  flashed. 

The  Lightning,  z 

The  storm  blew,  and  the  boat  upset; 
The  man  went  down  into  the  wet. 

The  Upturned  Boat  f    ^ 

[56] 


Typ  ogr  ap  hie  al   W  hims  ey  s 

And  as  he  sank,  his  bubbles  rose, 
Smaller  and  smaller  toward  the  close. 

The  Bubbles,  O  o  o  o 

Oh,  Sunday  fishers,  old  and  young, 

You  will  get  drowned,  or  you'll  get  hung! 


The  Gallows,  rn 


.   W.  Bellow. 


A 


AN  ARAB  AND  HIS  DONKEY 

N  Arab  came  to  the  river  side, 

With  a  donkey  bearing  an  obelisk; 
But  he  would  not  try  to  ford  the  tide, 
For  he  had  too  good  an  *. 

Boston  Globe. 


So  he  camped  all  night  by  the  river  side, 

And  he  remained  till  the  tide  ceased  to  swell, 

For  he  knew  should  the  donkey  from  life  subside, 
He  never  would  find  its  ||. 

Salem  Sunbeam. 
*        *        * 

When  the  morning  dawned,  and  tide  was  out, 
The  pair  crossed  over  'neath  Allah's  protection; 

And  the  Arab  was  happy,  we  have  no  doubt, 
For  he  had  the  best  donkey  in  all  that  §. 

Somerville  Journal. 

[57] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

You  are  wrong,  they  were  drowned  in  crossing  over, 
Though  the  donkey  was  bravest  of  all  his  race; 

He  luxuriates  now  in  horse-heaven  clover, 
And  his  master  has  gone  to  the  Prophet's  *. 

Elevated  Railway  "Journal. 

*  •*        *• 

These  asinine  poets  deserved  to  be  "blowed," 
Their  rhymes  being  faulty  and  frothy  and  beery; 

What  really  befell  the  ass  and  its  load 
Will  ever  remain  a  desolate  ?. 

Paper  and  Print. 

*  *        # 

Our  Yankee  friends,  with  all  their  — 

For  once,  we  guess,  their  mark  have  missed; 

And  with  poetry  Paper  and  Print  is  rash 
In  damming  its  flow  with  its  editor's 


In  parable  and  moral  leave  a  between, 

For  reflection,  or  your  wits  fall  out  of  joint; 

The  "Arab,"  ye  see,  is  a  printing  machine, 
And  the  donkey  is  he  who  can't  see  the  . 

British  and  Colonial  Printer. 


0 


A  SONG  OF  THE    & 

IF  all  the  types  in  a  printer's  hand 
Commend  me  to  the  ampersand, 
For  he's  the  gentleman  (seems  to  me) 
Of  the  typographical  companie. 

I 


Typographical   Whimseys 

O  my  nice  little  ampersand, 
My  graceful,  swanlike  ampersand! 
Nothing  that  Cadmus  ever  planned 
Equals  my  elegant  ampersand! 

Many  a  letter  your  writers  hate, 

Ugly  Q,  with  its  tail  so  straight, 

X,  that  makes  you  cross  as  a  bear, 

And  Z,  that  helps  you  with  "zounds"  to  swear. 

But  not  my  nice  little  ampersand, 

My  easily  dashed  off  ampersand; 

Any  odd  shape  folks  understand 

To  mean  my  Protean  ampersand. 

Nothing  for  him  that's  starch  or  stiff; 
Never  he's  used  in  scold  or  tiff; 
State  epistles,  so  dull  and  so  grand, 
Mustn't  contain  the  shortened  "and." 

No,  my  nice  little  ampersand, 

You  are  good  for  those  who're  jolly  and  bland; 

In  days  when  letters  were  dried  with  sand, 

Old  frumps  wouldn't  use  my  ampersand. 

But  he  is  dear  in  old  friendship's  call, 
Or  when  love  is  laughing  through  lady  scrawl, 
"Come  &  dine  &  have  bachelor's  fare," 
"Come  &  I'll  keep  you  a  round   &  square." 

Yes,  my  nice  little  ampersand 

Never  must  into  a  word  expand; 

Gentle  sign  of  affection  stand, 

My  kind,  familiar  ampersand. 

Anonymous. 

[59] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


LOVELILTS 

r  I  AHINE  eyes,  dear  one,  dot  dot,  are  like,  dash, 

what  ? 

They,  pure  as  sacred  oils,  bless  and  anoint 
My    sin-swamped    soul   which    at   thy   feet 

sobs  out, 
O  exclamation  point,  O  point,  O  point! 

Ah,  had  I  words,  blank  blank,  which,  dot,  I've  not, 
I'd  swoon  in  songs  which  should'st  illume  the  dark 
With  light  of  thee.  Ah,  God  (it's  strong  to  swear) 
Why,  why,  interrogation  mark,  why,  mark? 

Dot  dot  dot  dot.     And  so,  dash,  yet,  but  nay! 
My  tongue  takes  pause;  some  words  must  not  be 

said, 

For  fear  the  world,  cold  hyphen  eyed,  austere, 
Should'st    shake    thee    by  the   throat    till    reason 

fled. 

One  hour  of  love  we've  had.     Dost  thou  recall 
Dot  dot  dash  blank  interrogation  mark? 
The  night  was  ours,  blue  heaven  over  all 
Dash,  God!  dot  stars,  keep  thou  our  secret  dark! 

Anonymous. 


[60] 


Typograph  ic  a  I   W  hi  m  s  ey  s 

ROMANTIC  RECOLLECTIONS 

I 

WHEN  I  lay  in  a  cradle  and  suck'd  a  coral, 
I  lov'd  romance  in  my  childish  way; 
And  stories,  with  or  without  a  moral, 

Were  welcome  as  ever  the  flow'rs  in  May. 
For  love  of  the  false  I  learnt 

my  spelling, 

And  brav'd  the  perils  of— 
While  matters  of  fact  were 

most  repelling, 
Romance  was  pleasant  as  aught  could— 

II 

My  reading  took  me  to  desert  islands, 

And  buried  me  deep  in  Arabian  Nights; 
Sir  Walter  led  me  amongst  the  Highlands, 

Or  into  the  thickest  of  Moslem  fights. 
I  found  the  elder  Dumas  delightful—          J"T"1 

Before  the  son  had  eclips'd  the —  [(jU  *  J    = 
And  Harrison  Ainsworth  finely  tJ 

frightful, 

And  Fenimore  Cooper  far  from — 


III 

A  few  years  later  I  took  to  reading 
The  morbid  stories  of  Edgar  Poe — 

Not  healthy  viands  for  youthful  feeding 
(And  all  my  advisers  told  me  so). 

[61] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

But,  healthy  or  not,  I  enjoy'd  them 

vastly; 

My  feverish  fancy  was  nightly —  j^p; 
Upon  horrible  crimes  and  murders 

ghastly 
Which  sent  me  terrified  off  to— 

IV 

Well;  what  with  perils  upon  the  prairies, 
And  haunted  ruins  and  ghosts  in  white, 

And  wars  with  giants  and  gifts  from  fairies, 
At  last  I  came  to  be  craz'd  outright. 

And  many  a  time,  in  my  nightly 

slumbers,  r^_  .    ,    ,     _ 


p. 
Bearing  a  glove  as  a  lady's —  \. 

I  held  the  lists  against  countless 

numbers, 
After  the  style  of  the  darkest— 


I  am  chang'd  at  present;  the  olden  fever 

Has  left  my  brain  in  a  sounder  state; 
In  commonplace  I'm  a  firm  believer, 

And  hunt  for  figure  and  fact  and  date. 
I  have  lost  a  lot  of  my  old  affection, 

For  books  on  which  I  was  wont  to — 
But  still    I    can    thrill    at   the    recol- 
lection 

Of  mystery,  magic,  and  martial — 

Henry  S.  Leigh. 

[62] 


LIPOGRAMS 


FOUR    LIPOGRAMS 

THE    RUSSO-TURKISH    WAR 

WAR  harms  all  ranks,  all  arts, all  crafts  appal; 
At  Mars'  harsh  blast  arch,  rampart,  altar 

fall! 

Ah!  hard  as  adamant  a  braggart  Czar 
Arms  vassal-swarms,  and  fans  a  fatal  war! 
Rampant  at  that  bad  call,  a  Vandal  band 
Harass,  and  harm,  and  ransack  Wallach-land. 
A  Tartar  phalanx  Balkan's  scarp  hath  past, 
And  Allah's  standard  falls,  alas!  at  last. 


THE    FALL    OF    EVE 

EVE,  Eden's  empress,  needs  defended  be; 
The  Serpent  greets  her  when  she  seeks  the 

tree. 

Serene  she  sees  the  speckled  tempter  creep; 
Gentle  he  seems — perverted  schemer  deep — 

*  Poems  so  constructed  as  to  omit  entirely  a  certain  letter,  or,  on 
the  contrary,  restricted  to  the  use  of  but  one  vowel. 

[63] 


A    Whimsey   Anthology 

Yet  endless  pretexts,  ever  fresh,  prefers, 
Perverts  her  senses,  revels  when  she  errs, 
Sneers  when  she  weeps,  regrets,  repents  she  fell, 
Then,  deep-revenged,  reseeks  the  nether  Hell! 


I 


THE    APPROACH    OF    EVENING 

DLING  I  sit  in  this  mild  twilight  dim, 

Whilst  birds,  in  wild  swift  vigils,  circling  skim. 
Light  wings  in  sighing  sink,  till,  rising  bright, 
Night's  Virgin  Pilgrim  swims  in  vivid  light. 


INCONTROVERTIBLE    FACTS 

NO  monk  too  good  to  rob,  or  cog,  or  plot, 
No  fool  so  gross  to  bolt  Scotch  collops  hot. 
From  Donjon  tops  no  Oronooko  rolls. 
Logwood,  not  lotos,  floods  Oporto's  bowls. 
Troops  of  old  tosspots  oft  to  sot  consort. 
Box  tops  our  schoolboys,  too,  do  flog  for  sport. 
No  cool  monsoons  blow  oft  on  Oxford  dons, 
Orthodox,  jog-trot,  book-worm  Solomons! 
Bold  Ostrogoths  of  ghosts  no  horror  show. 
On  London  shop-fronts  no  hop-blossoms  grow. 
To  crocks  of  gold  no  Dodo  looks  for  food. 
On  soft  cloth  footstools  no  old  fox  doth  brood. 
Long  storm-tost  sloops  forlorn  do  work  to  port. 
Rooks  do  not  roost  on  spoons,  nor  woodcocks  snort. 
Nor  dog  on  snowdrop  or  on  coltsfoot  rolls, 
Nor  common  frog  concocts  long  protocols. 

Anonymous. 

[64] 


Lip  ogr  a m s 

PHILOSOPHY 

JJLL   humdrum   murmurs   lull,  but   hubbub 

stuns. 

Lucullus  snuffs  up  musk,  mundungus  shuns. 
Puss  purs,  buds  burst,  bucks  butt,  luck  turns  up 

trumps; 
But  full  cups,  hurtful,  spur  up  unjust  thumps. 

Anonymous 


D 


B 


THE   FATE  OF  NASSAN* 

OLD  Nassan  quits  his  caravan, 
A  hazy  mountain  grot  to  scan; 
Climbs  jaggy  rocks  to  spy  his  way, 
Doth  tax  his  sight,  but  far  doth  stray. 


Not  work  of  man,  nor  sport  of  child. 
Finds  Nassan  in  that  mazy  wild; 
Lax  grow  his  joints,  limbs  toil  in  vain — 
Poor  wight!  why  didst  thou  quit  that  plain. 

Vainly  for  succour  Nassan  calls, 
Know,  Zillah,  that  thy  Nassan  falls; 
But  prowling  wolf  and  fox  may  joy, 
To  quarry  on  thy  Arab  boy. 

Anonymous 
*  E  is  omitted. 

[65] 


G 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


ALPHABET    VERSE* 

OD  gives  the  grazing  ox  his  meat, 

And  quickly  hears  the  sheep's  low  cry, 
But  man,  who  tastes  his  finest  wheat, 
Should  joy  to  lift  his  praises  high. 

Anonymous 

*  This  stanza  includes  all  the  letters  of  the  alphabet. 


[66] 


ALLITERATIVE   WHIMSEYS 


MY  MADELINE 

MY  Madeline!  my  Madeline! 
Mark  my  melodious  midnight  moans 
Much  may  my  melting  music  mean, 
J  My  modulated  monotones. 

My  mandolin's  mild  minstrelsy, 

My  mental  music  magazine, 
My  mouth,  my  mind,  my  memory, 

Must  mingling  murmur  "Madeline." 

Muster  'mid  midnight  masquerades, 

Mark  Moorish  maidens',  matrons'  mien, 

'Mongst  Murcia's  most  majestic  maids 
Match  me  my  matchless  Madeline. 

Mankind's  malevolence  may  make 

Much  melancholy  music  mine; 
Many  my  motives  may  mistake, 

My  modest  merits  much  malign. 

My  Madeline's  most  mirthful  mood 
Much  mollifies  my  mind's  machine; 

My  mournfulness'  magnitude 

Melts — makes  me  merry — Madeline1 

[67] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Match-making  mas  may  machinate, 
Manoeuvring  misses  me  misween; 

Mere  money  may  make  many  mate; 
My  magic  motto's,  "Madeline!" 

Melt,  most  mellifluous  melody, 

Midst  Murcia's  misty  mounts  marine, 

Meet  me  'mid  moonlight — marry  me, 
Madonna  mia! — my  Madeline! 

Anonymous. 


BLOOM,   BEAUTEOUS   BLOSSOMS 

LOOM,   beauteous   blossoms,    budding  bow- 
ers beneath! 

Behold,.  Boreas'  bitter  blast  by  brief 
Bright  beams  becalmed;  balmy  breezes 

breathe, 

Banishing  blight,  bring  bliss  beyond  be- 
lief. 

Build,  bonny  birds!     By  bending  birchen  bough, 
By  bush,  by  beech,  by  buttressed  branches  bare, 

By  bluebell-brightened  bramble-brake;  bestow 
Bespeckled  broods;  but  "bold  bad  boys  beware! 

Babble,  blithe  brooklet!     Barren  borders  breach, 
Bathe  broomy  banks,  bright  buttercups  bedew, 

Briskly  by  bridge,  by  beetling  bluff,  by  beach, 
Beckoned  by  bravely  bounding  billows  blue! 

Sir  Patrick  Fells. 

[68] 


B 


Alliterative    W hims  ey  s 


SUSAN  SIMPSON 

SUDDEN  swallows  swiftly  skimming, 
Sunset's  slowly  spreading  shade. 
Silvery  songsters  sweetly  singing, 
Summer's  soothing  serenade. 

Susan  Simpson  strolled  sedately, 
Stifling  sobs,  suppressing  sighs. 

Seeing  Stephen  Slocum,  stately 

She  stopped,  showing  some  surprise. 

"Say,"  said  Stephen,  "sweetest  sigher; 

Say,  shall  Stephen  spouseless  stay?" 
Susan,  seeming  somewhat  shyer, 

Showed  submissiveness  straightway. 

Summer's  season  slowly  stretches, 
Susan  Simpson  Slocum  she — 

So  she  signed  some  simple  sketches — 
Soul  sought  soul  successfully. 


Six  Septembers  Susan  swelters; 

Six  sharp  seasons  snow  supplies; 
Susan's  satin  sofa  shelters 

Six  small  Slocums  side  by  side. 

Anonymous. 


[69] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


THE  CUSHAT 

FM1E  cushat  croods,  the  corbie  cries, 
The  cuckoo  conks,  the  prattling  pies 

To  geek  there  they  begin; 
The  jargon  of  the  jangling  jays, 
The  cracking  craws  and  keckling  jays, 

They  deav'd  me  with  their  din; 
The  painted  pawn,  with  Argus  eyes, 

Can  on  his  May-cock  call, 
The  turtle  wails  on  wither'd  trees, 
And  echo  answers  all. 

Repeating  with  greeting, 

How  fair  Narcissus  fell, 
By  lying  and  spying 
His  shadow  in  the  well. 

The  air  was  sober,  saft,  and  sweet, 
Nae  misty  vapours,  wind,  nor  weet, 

But  quiet,  calm,  and  clear; 
To  foster  Flora's  fragrant  flowers. 
Whereon  Apollo's  paramours 
Had  trinkled  mony  a  tear; 
The  which,  like  silver  shakers,  shined, 

Embroidering  Beauty's  bed, 
Wherewith  their  heavy  heads  declined 
In  Maye's  colours  clad; 

Some  knopping,  some  dropping 

Of  balmy  liquor  sweet, 
Excelling  and  smelling 

Through  Phoebus'  wholesome  heat. 
Alexander  Montgomery. 

[70] 


Alliterative    W  h  i  m  s  ey  s 


QU^ERITUR 

DAWN  that  disheartens  the  desolate  dunes, 
Dulness  of  day  as  it  bursts  on  the  beach, 
Sea-wind  that  shrillest  the  thinnest  of  tunes, 
What  is  the  wisdom  thy  wailings  would 

teach  ? 

Far,  far  away,  down  the  foam-frescoed  reach, 
Where  ravening   rocks  cleave  the   crest  of  the 

seas, 

Sigheth  the  sound  of  thy  sonorous  speech, 
As  grey  gull  and  guillemot  gather  their  fees; 
Taking  toll  of  the  beasts  that  are  bred  in  the 
fas. 

Foam-flakes  fly  farther  than  faint  eyes  can  follow — 
Drop  down  the  desolate  dunes  and  are  done; 

Fleeter  than  foam-flowers  flitteth  the  Swallow, 
Sheer  for  the  sweets  of  the  South  and  the  Sun: 

What  is  thy  tale,  O  thou  treacherous  Swallow? 
Sing  me  thy  secret,  Beloved  of  the  Skies, 

That  I  may  gather  my  garments  and  follow — 
Flee  on  the  path  of  thy  pinions  and  rise 
Where  strong  storms  cease  and  the  weary  wind 
dies. 

Lo!  I  am  bound  with  the  chains  of  my  sorrow; 

Swallow,  swift  Swallow,  ah,  wait,  for  a  while! 
Stay  but  a  moment — it  may  be  to-morrow 

Chains  shall  be  severed  and  sad  souls  shall  smile! 

[71] 


A    Whimsey   Anthology 

Only  a  moment — a  mere  minute's  measure — 
How  shall  it  hurt  such  a  swift  one  as  thou  ? 

Pitiless  Swallow,  full  flushed  for  thy  pleasure, 
Canst  thou  not  even  one  instant  allow 
To  weaker-winged  wanderers  ?    Wait  for  me  now ! 

Rudyard  Kipling. 


PROCURATORES 

OH,  vestment  of  velvet  and  virtue, 
Oh,  venomous  victors  of  vice, 
Who  hurt  men  who  never  have  hurt  you, 

Oh,  calm,  cold,  crueller  than  ice! 
Why  wilfully  wage  you  this  war?  Is  f 

All  pity  purged  out  of  your  breast  ? 
Oh,  purse-prigging  procuratores, 
Oh,  pitiless  pest! 

We  had  smote  and  made  redder  than  roses, 

With  juice  not  of  fruit  nor  of  bud, 
The  truculent  townspeople's  noses, 

And  bathed  brutal  butchers  in  blood; 
And  we  all  aglow  in  our  glories, 

Heard  you  not  in  the  deafening  din; 
And  ye  came,  O  ye  procuratores, 
And  ran  us  all  in! 

From  the  Sbotover  Papers. 


[72] 


ACROSTICS 


ACROSTIC 

Earth  now  is  green  and  heaven  is  blue; 

Lively  spring  which  makes  all  new. 

lolly  spring  doth  enter. 

Sweet  young  sunbeams  do  subdue 

Angry  aged  winter. 

Blasts  are  mild  and  seas  are  calm, 

Every  meadow  flows  with  balm, 

The  earth  wears  all  her  riches, 

Harmonious  birds  sing  such  a  psalm 

As  ear  and  heart  bewitches. 

Reserve  (sweet  spring)  this  nymph  of  ours, 

Eternal  garlands  of  thy  flowers, 

Green  garlands  never  wasting 

In  her  shall  last  our  state's  fair  spring, 

Now  and  forever  flourishing, 

As  long  as  heaven  is  lasting. 

Str  yohn  Davies. 

ACROSTIC 

Go,  little  poem,  and  present 
Respectful  terms  of  compliment, 
A  Gentle  Lady  bids  thee  speak; 
Courteous  is  She,  though  Thou  be  weak, 
fivoke  from  Heav'n,  as  thick  as  Manna, 

[73] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Joy  after  joy,  on  Grace  Joanna. 
On  Fornham's  glebe  and  pasture  land 
A  blessing  pray.     Long,  long  may  stand, 
Not  touch'd  by  time,  the  Rectory  blithe. 
No  grudging  churl  dispute  his  tithe. 
At  Easter  be  the  offerings  due 

With  cheerful  spirit  paid.     Each  pew 

In  decent  order  fill'd.     No  noise 

Loud  intervene  to  drown  the  voice, 

Learning  or  wisdom,  of  the  Teacher. 

Impressive  be  the  Sacred  Preacher, 

And  strict  his  notes  on  Holy  Page. 

May  young  and  old  from  age  to  age 

Salute  and  still  point  out  the  "Good  Man's  Parson- 

aSC'"  Charles  Lamb. 

ACROSTIC 

Lovely  and  loved,  o'er  the  unconquered  brave 
Your  charms  resistless,  matchless  girl,  shall  reign, 
Dear  as  the  mother  holds  her  infant's  grave, 
In  Love's  warm  regions,  warm,  romantic  Spain. 
And  should  your  fate  to  courts  your  steps  ordain, 

Kings  would  in  vain  to  regal  pomp  appeal, 

And  lordly  bishops  kneel  to  you  in  vain, 

Nor  Valour's  fire,  Love's  power,  nor  Churchman's 

zeal 
Endure    'gainst    Love's    (time's    up)    untarnished 

steel. 

Bogart. 

[74] 


Acrostics 


ACROSTIC  * 

"  Areyou  deaf,  Father  William  ?"theyoungman  said, 

"  Did  you  hear  what  I  told  you  just  now  ? 

"Excuse  me  for  shouting!   Don't  waggle  your  head 

"Like  a  blundering,  sleepy  old  cow! 

"A  little  maid  dwelling  in  Wallington  Town, 

"Is  my  friend,  so  I  beg  to  remark; 

"Do  you  think  she'd  be  pleased  if  a  book  were  sent 

down 
"Entitled  The  Hunt  of  the  Snark?'" 

"Pack  it  up  in  brown  paper!"  the  old  man  cried, 
"And  seal  it  with  olive-and-dove. 
"I  command  you  to  do  it!"  he  added  with  pride, 
"Nor  forget,  my  good  fellow,  to  send  her  beside 
"Easter  Greetings,  and  give  her  my  love." 

Lewis  Carroll. 

AN  ACROSTIC 

Friendship,  thou'rt  false !   I  hate  thy  flattering  smile ! 
Return  to  me  those  years  I  spent  in  vain. 
In  early  youth  the  victim  of  thy  guile, 
Each  joy  took  wing  ne'er  to  return  again, — 
Ne'er  to  return;  for,  chilled  by  hopes  deceived, 
Dully  the  slow-paced  hours  now  move  along; 
So  changed  the  times  when  thoughtless  I  believed 
Her  honeyed  words,  and  heard  her  siren  song. 
If  e'er,  as  me,  she  lure  some  youth  to  stray, 
Perhaps,  before  too  late,  he'll  listen  to  my  lay. 

Anonymous. 
*  By  permission  of  the  Macmillan  Company. 

[75] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


AN  ACROSTIC* 

A  boat,  beneath  a  sunny  sky 
Lingering  onward  dreamily 
In  an  evening  of  July — 

Children  three  that  nestle  near, 
Eager  eye  and  willing  ear, 
""""^leased  a  simple  tale  to  hear- 
Long  has  paled  that  sunny  sky: 
Echoes  fade  and  memories  die: 
Autumn  frosts  have  slain  July. 

Still  she  haunts  me,  phantomwise, 
Alice,  moving  under  skies 
Never  seen  by  waking  eyes. 

Children,  yet,  the  tale  to  hear, 
Eager  eye  and  willing  ear, 
lovingly  shall  nestle  near. 

In  a  Wonderland  they  lie, 
Dreaming  as  the  days  go  by, 
Dreaming  as  the  summers  die; 

Ever  drifting  down  the  stream — 
Lingering  in  the  golden  gleam — 
Life,  what  is  it  but  a  dream  ? 

Lewis  Carroll. 
*  By  permission  of  the  Macmillan  Company. 

[76] 


Acrostics 


DOUBLE  ACROSTIC 

Unite  and  untie  are  the  same — so  say  you. 
Not  in  wedlock,  I  ween,  has  the  unity  been. 
In  the  drama  of  marriage,  each  wandering  gout 
To  a  new  face  would  fly — all  except  you  and  I 
Each  seeking  to  alter  the  spell  in  their  scene. 

Anonymous. 


PECULIAR  ACROSTIC 
A  Valentine 

(Read  the  first  letter  of  the  first  line,  second  letter 
of  the  second  line,  and  so  on.) 

i    TJOR   her  this  rhyme  is  penned,  whose  lum- 
inous eyes, 

Rightly  expressive  as  the  twins  of  Leda, 
SP$11  find  her  own  sweet  name,  that  nestling  lies 
Upc(J  the  page,  enwrapped  from  every  reader. 
\  Seai^Ji  narrowly  the  lines! — they  hold  a  treasure 
'   Diving— a  talisman — an  amulet 
That  mu$fc  be  worn  at  heart.     Search  well  the 

measure — 

The  woFtis-^he  syllables!     Do  not  forget 
Tha  trivi;$est  point,  or  you  may  lose  your  labour! 
And  yet  ther^is  in  this  no  Gordian  knot 
Which  one  misfit  not  undo  without  a  sabre, 
If  one  could  merely  comprehend  the  plot. 

[77] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


Rewritten  upog>  the  leaf  where  now  are  peering 
Eye's  scintillating  soul,  there  lie  perdus 
Three  eloquent  words  oft  uttered  in  the  hearing   < 
Of  poets  by  poets — as  the  name  is  a  poet's,  too,  S 
Its  letters,  although  naturally  lying 
Like  the  Knight  Pint9 — Mendez  Ferdinando— 
Still  form  «a  synonym  for  Truth.     Cease  trying! 
You  will  not  read  the  riddle,  though  you  do  the    j 
best  you  can  do! 

Edgar  Allan  Poe. 


PARTICULAR  ACROSTIC 

Though  crost  in  our  affections,  still  the  flames 
Of   Honour     shall     secure     our     noble     Names; 
Nor  shall  Our    fate    divorce    our    faith,   Or    cause 
The      least      Mislike     of     love's     Diviner  lawes. 
Crosses  sometimes  Are     cures,     Now    let    us   prove, 
That      no      strength    Shall    Abate  the  power  of  love: 
Honour,     wit,     beauty,     Riches,  wise  men  call 
Frail         fortune's        Badges,  In  true  love  lies  all. 
Therefore  to  him  we  Yield,     our      Vowes  shall  be 
Paid  Read,       and  written  in       Eternity: 

That  All  may  know  when  men  grant  no  Redress, 
Much    love    can    sweeten     the    unhappinesS. 

Thomas  Jordan. 


[78] 


ENIGMAS   AND   CHARADES 


ENIGMA  ON  THE  LETTER  H 

T  I  A\VAS  whispered  in  heaven,  'twas  muttered  in 

hell, 

And  echo  caught  faintly  the  sound  as  it  fell; 
On  the  confines  of  earth  'twas  permitted  to  rest, 
And  the  depths  of  the  ocean  its  presence  confessed; 
'Twill    be   found    in   the   sphere   when    'tis    riven 

asunder, 

Be  seen  in  the  lightning,  and  heard  in  the  thunder. 
'Twas  allotted  to  man  with  his  earliest  breath, 
It  assists  at  his  birth  and  attends  him  in  death, 
Presides  o'er  his  happiness,  honor,  and  health, 
Is  the  prop  of  his  house  and  the  end  of  his  wealth, 
In  the  heaps  of  the  miser  is  hoarded  with  care, 
But  is  sure  to  be  lost  in  his  prodigal  heir. 
It  begins  every  hope,  every  wish  it  must  bound, 
It  prays  with  the  hermit,  with  monarchs  is  crowned; 
Without  it  the  soldier,  the  sailor,  may  roam, 
But  woe  to  the  wretch  who  expels  it  from  home. 
In  the  whisper  of  conscience  'tis  sure  to  be  found, 
Nor  e'en  in  the  whirlwind  of  passion  is  drowned; 
'Twill  soften  the  heart,  but,  though  deaf  to  the  ear, 
It  will  make  it  acutely  and  instantly  hear; 

[79] 


A    M^himsey   Anthology 

But,  in  short,  let  it  rest  like  a  delicate  flower; 
Oh,  breathe  on  it  softly,  it  dies  in  an  hour. 

Catherine  Fanshawe. 


TRAVESTY  OF  MISS  FANSHAWE'S 
ENIGMA 

I   DWELLS  in  the  Hearth,  and   I  breathes  in 
the  Hair; 
If  you  searches  the  Hocean,  you'll  find  that 

I'm  there. 

The  first  of  all  Hangels  in  Holympus  am  Hi, 
Yet  I'm  banished  from  'Eaven,  expelled  from  on 

'igh. 

But,  though  on  this  Horb  I'm  destined  to  grovel, 
I'm  ne'er  seen  in  an  'Ouse,  in  an  'Ut,  nor  an  'Ovel. 
Not  an  'Orse,  not  an  'Unter  e'er  bears  me,  alas! 
But  often  I'm  found  on  the  top  of  a  Hass. 
I  resides  in  a  Hattic,  and  loves  not  to  roam, 
And  yet  I'm  invariably  absent  from  'Ome. 
Though  'Ushed  in  the  'Urricane,  of  the  Hatmo- 

sphere  part, 

I  enters  no  'Ed,  I  creeps  into  no  'Art. 
Only  look,  and  you'll  see  in  the  Heye  Hi  appear; 
Only  'Ark,  and  you'll  'Ear  me  just  breathe  in  the 

Hear. 

Though  in  sex  not  an  'E,  I  am  (strange  paradox) 
Not  a  bit  of  an  'EfFer,  but  partly  a  Hox. 
Of  Heternity  I'm  the  beginning!  and,  mark, 
Though  I  goes  not  with  Noar,  I'm  first  in  the  Hark. 
[80] 


Enigmas    and   Charades 

I'm  never  in  'Ealth,  have  with  Fysic  no  power, 
I  dies  in  a  month,  but  comes  back  in  a  Hour. 

Horace  Maykew. 

THE  LETTER  H'S  PROTEST  TO  THE 
COCKNEYS 

WHEREAS  by  you  I  have  been  driven 
From  'ouse,  from  'ome,  from  'ope,  from 

'eaven, 

And  placed  by  your  most  learned  society 
In  Hexile,  Hanguish,  and  Hanxiety, 
Nay,  charged  without  one  just  pretence 
With  Harrogance  and  Himpudence, — 
I  here  demand  full  restitution, 
And  beg  you'll  mend  your  Hellocution. 

Mr.  Skeat. 

ENIGMA  ON  THE  LETTER  I 

I  AM  not  in  youth,  nor  in  manhood  or  age, 
But  in  infancy  ever  am  known. 
I'm  a  stranger  alike  to  the  fool  and  the  sage, 
And  though  I'm  distinguished  on  history's  page, 
I  always  am  greatest  alone. 

I'm  not  in  the  earth,  nor  the  sun,  nor  the  moon; 

You  may  search  all  the  sky,  I'm  not  there; 
In  the  morning  and  evening,  though  not  in  the  noon, 
You  may  plainly  perceive  me,  for,  like  a  balloon, 

I  am  always  suspended  in  air. 
[81] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Though  disease  may  possess  me,  and  sickness,  and 

pain, 

I  am  never  in  sorrow  or  gloom. 
Though  in  wit  and  in  wisdom  I  equally  reign, 
I'm  the  heart  of  all  sin,  and  have  long  lived  in  vain, 
Yet  I  ne'er  shall  be  found  in  the  tomb. 

Catherine  Fanshawf. 


AN  UNSOLVED  ENIGMA 

r  I  AHE  noblest  object  in  the  works  of  art, 

The  brightest  scenes  which  nature  can  im- 
part; 

The  well-known  signal  in  the  time  of  peace, 
The  point  essential  in  a  tenant's  lease; 
The  farmer's  comfort  as  he  drives  the  plough, 
A  soldier's  duty,  and  a  lover's  vow; 
A  contract  made  before  the  nuptial  tie, 
A  blessing  riches  never  can  supply; 
A  spot  that  adds  new  charms  to  pretty  faces, 
An  engine  used  in  fundamental  cases; 
A  planet  seen  between  the  earth  and  sun, 
A  prize  that  merit  never  yet  has  won; 
A  loss  which  prudence  seldom  can  retrieve, 
The  death  of  Judas,  and  the  fall  of  Eve; 
A  part  between  the  ankle  and  the  knee, 
A  papist's  toast  and  a  physician's  fee; 
A  wife's  ambition  and  a  parson's  dues, 
A  miser's  idol,  and  the  badge  of  Jews. 
If  now  your  happy  genius  can  divine 
A  corresponding  word  for  every  line, 
[82] 


Enigmas    and   Charades 

By  the  first  letters  plainly  may  be  found 
An  ancient  city  that  is  much  renowned. 

Anna  SewarJ. 


AN  UNSOLVED  ENIGMA 

I  SIT  stern  as  a  rock  when  I'm  raising  the  wind, 
But  the  storm  once  abated,  I'm   gentle   and 

kind. 

I  have  Kings  at  my  feet,  who  await  but  my  nod 
To  kneel  down  in  the  dust  on  the  ground  I  have 

trod. 

Though  seen  by  the  world,  I  am  known  but  to  few; 
The  Gentile  deserts  me,  I  am  pork  to  the  Jew. 
I  have  never  passed  but  one  night  in  the  dark, 
And  that  was  like  Noah,  alone  in  the  ark. 
My  weight  is  three  pounds,  my  length  is  one  mile, 
And  when  you  have  guessed  me,  you'll  say  with  a 

smile 

That  my  first  and  my  last  are  the  best  of  this  isle. 

Anonymous. 


AN  UNSOLVED  ENIGMA 

I'M  the  stoutest  of  voices  in  Orchestra  heard, 
And  yet  in  an  Orchestra  never  have  been. 
I'm  a  bird  of  bright  plumage,  yet  less  like  a 

bird 
Nothing  in  nature  ever  was  seen. 

[83] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Touching  earth  I  expire,  in  water  I  die, 
In  air  I  lose  breath,  yet  can  swim  and  can  fly. 
Darkness  destroys  me,  and  light  is  my  death; 
You    can't    keep    me    alive   without    stopping    my 

breath. 

If  my  name  can't  be  guessed  by  a  boy  or  a  man, 
By  a  girl  or  a  woman  it  certainly  can. 

Anonymous. 

OLD  RIDDLE* 

GOD  made  Adam  out  of  dust; 
But  thought  it  best  to  make  me  first. 
And  I  was  made  before  the  man 
According  to  God's  holy  plan. 
My  body  he  did  make  complete; 
But  without  arms,  or  legs,  or  feet. 
My  ways  and  actions  did  control 
And  I  was  made  without  a  soul. 
A  living  creature  I  became; 
'Twas  Adam  that  gave  me  my  name. 
Then  from  his  presence  I  withdrew; 
Nor  more  of  Adam  ever  knew. 
I  did  my  Maker's  laws  obey: 
From  them  I  never  went  astray; 
Thousands  of  miles  I  roam  in  fear; 
But  seldom  on  the  land  appear. 
But  God  in  me  did  something  see, 
And  put  a  living  soul  in  me. 
A  soul  in  me  the  Lord  did  claim, 
And  took  from  me  that  soul  again. 

*  Answer:  The  whale  that  swallowed  Jonah. 

[84] 


Enigmas    and    Charades 

And  when  from  me  that  soul  was  fled, 
I  was  the  same  as  when  first  made. 
And  without  arms,  or  legs,  or  soul, 
I  travel  now  from  pole  to  pole; 
I  labor  hard  both  day  and  night; 
To  fallen  men  I  give  great  light. 
Thousands  of  people  young  and  old, 
Do  by  my  death  great  light  behold. 
No  fear  of  death  doth  trouble  me, 
Nor  happiness  I  cannot  see. 
To  heaven  above  I  ne'er  shall  go;  — 
Nor  to  the  grave,  nor  hell  below. 
The  Scriptures  I  cannot  believe 
Whether  right  or  wrong  I  can't  conceive 
Although  my  name  therein  is  found 
They  are  to  me  an  empty  sound. 
And  when  friends  these  lines  do  read 
Go  search  the  Scriptures  with  all  speed, 
And  if  my  name  you  can't  find  there, 
It  will  be  strange  —  I  do  declare. 

Anonymous. 

A  FAMOUS   RIDDLE* 


and  commiserate 
One  who  was  blind, 
Homeless  and  desolate, 

Void  of  a  mind; 

Guileless,  deceiving, 

Through  unbelieving, 

*  Answer:  See  I  Samuel  xix.  13 

[85] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Free  from  all  sin; 
By  mortals  adored, 
Still  I  ignored 
The  world  I  was  in. 
King  Ptolemy's,  Caesar's 
And  Tiglath-pileser's 
Birthdays  are  shown; 
Wise  men,  astrologers, 
All  are  acknowledgers, 
Mine  is  unknown, 
I  ne'er  had  a  father 
Or  mother;  or  rather, 
If  I  had  either, 
Then  they  were  neither 
Alive  at  my  birth; 
Lodged  in  a  palace. 
Hunted    by   malice, 
I  did  not  inherit 
By  lineage  or  merit 
A  spot  on  the  earth. 
Nursed  among  pagans, 
No  one  baptized  me, 
A  sponsor  I  had 
Who  ne'er  catechised  me; 
She  gave  me  the  name 
To  her  heart  was  the  dearest, 
She  gave  me  the  place 
To  her  bosom  was  nearest; 
But  one  look  of  kindness 
She  cast  on  me  never, 
Nor  a  word  in  my  blindness 
I  heard  from  her  ever. 
[86] 


Enigmas    and   Charades 

Compassed  by  dangers, 

Nothing  could  harm  me; 

By  foemen  and  strangers, 

Naught  could  alarm  me; 

I  saved,  I  destroyed; 

I  blessed,  I  annoyed; 

Kept  a  crown  for  a  Prince, 

But  had  none  of  my  own; 

Filled  the  place  of  a  King, 

But  ne'er  sat  on  a  throne; 

Rescued  a  warrior;  baffled  a  plot; 

Was  what  I  seemed  not, 

Seemed  what  I  was  not; 

Devoted  to  slaughter, 

A  price  on  my  head, 

A  King's  lovely  daughter 

Watched  by  my  bed; 

Though  gently  she  dressed  me, 

Fainting  with  fear, 

She  never  caressed  me 

Nor  wiped  off  a  tear, 

Never  moistened  my  lips 

Though  parching  and  dry 

(What  marvel  a  blight 

Should  pursue  till  she  die!) 

'Twas  royalty  nursed  me, 

Wretched  and  poor; 

'Twas  royalty  cursed  me 

In  secret,  I'm  sure. 

I  live  not,  I  died  not; 

But  tell  you  I  must 

That  ages  have  passed 

[87] 


A    W  him  s  ey    Anthology 

Since  I  first  turned  to  dust. 

This  paradox  whence  ? 

This  squalor!     This  splendor! 

Say!  was  I  a  King, 

Or  a  silly  pretender? 

Fathom  the  mystery, 

Deep  in  my  history! 

Was  I  a  man  ? 

An  angel  supernal  ? 

A  demon  infernal  ? 

Solve  it  who  can!  A 

Anonymous 

OLD   RIDDLE* 

IF  it  be  true,  as  Welshmen  say, 
Honor  depends  on  pedigree, 
Then  stand  by — clear  the  way — 
And  let  me  have  fair  play. 
For,  though  you  boast  thro'  ages  dark 
Your  pedigree  from  Noah's  ark, 
I,  too,  was  with  him  there. 
For  I  was  Adam,  Adam  I, 
And  I  was  Eve,  and  Eve  was  I, 
In  spite  of  wind  and  weather; 
But,  mark  me — Adam  was  not  I, 
Neither  was  Mrs.  Adam  I, 
Unless  they  were  together. 
Suppose,  then,  Eve  and  Adam  talking — 
With  all  my  heart,  but  if  they're  walking 
There  ends  all  simile, 

*  Answer  :   A  bedfellow. 

[88] 


Enigmas   and   Charades 

For,  tho'  I've  tongue  and  often  talk, 

And  tho'  I've  feet,  yet  when  I  walk 

There  is  an  end  of  me! 

Not  such  an  end  but  I  have  breath, 

Therefore  to  such  a  kind  of  death 

I  have  but  small  objection. 

I  may  be  Turk,  I  may  be  Jew, 

And  tho'  a  Christian,  yet  'tis  true 

I  die  by  resurrection! 

Anonymous. 

ENIGMA  ON  COD 

CUT  off  my  head,  and  singular  I  act, 
Cut  off  my  tail,  and  plural  I  appear; 
Cut  off  my  head  and  tail,  and,  wondrous  fact, 
Although  my  middle's  left,  there's  nothing 

there. 

What  is  my  head  cut  off?     A  sounding  sea; 
What  is  my  tail  cut  off?     A  flowing  river, 
In  whose  translucent  depths  I  fearless  play, 
Parent  of  sweetest  sounds,  yet  mute  forever. 

Anonymous. 

CHARADE  * 

COME  from  my  First,  ay,  come; 
The  battle  dawn  is  nigh, 
And  the  screaming  trump  and  the  thun- 
dering-drum 
Are  calling  thee  to  die. 

*  Campbell. 

[89] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Fight,  as  thy  father  fought; 
Fall,  as  thy  father  fell: 
Thy  task  is  taught,  thy  shroud  is  wrought; 
So  forward  and  farewell! 


Toll  ye  my  Second,  toll; 

Fling  high  the  flambeau's  light; 

And  sing  the  hymn  for  a  parted  soul 

Beneath  the  silent  night; 

The  helm  upon  his  head, 

The  cross  upon  his  breast, 

Let  the  prayer  be  said,  and  the  tear  be  shed: 

Now  take  him  to  his  rest! 

Call  ye  my  Whole,  go  call 

The  lord  of  lute  and  lay, 

And  let  him  greet  the  sable  pall 

With  a  noble  song  to-day; 

Ay,  call  him  by  his  name, 

No  fitter  hand  may  crave 

To  light  the  flame  of  a  soldier's  fame 

On  the  turf  of  a  soldier's  grave! 

Winthrop  Mackworth  Praed. 


[90] 


ANAGRAMS 


A  TELEGRAM  ANAGRAMMATISED 

r  1  CHOUGH  but  a  late  germ,  with  a  wondrous 

elation, 
Yet   like  a  great  elm   it  o'ershadows  each 

station, 

Et  malgre  the  office  is  still  a  large  free  mart, 
So  joyous  the  crowd  was,  you'd  thought  it  a  glee 

mart ; 

But  they  raged  at  no  news  from  the  nations  bellig- 
erent, 

And  I  said,  Lefm  rage,  since  the  air  is  refrigerant. 
I  then  met  large  numbers,  whose  drink  was  not 

sherbet, 
Who  scarce  could  look  up  when  their  eyes  the  gas- 

glare  met  ; 

So  when  I  had  learned  from  commercial  adviser, 
That  mere  gait  for  sand  was  the  great  fertiliser, 
I  bade  Mr.  Eaglet,  although  'twas  ideal, 
Get  some  from  the  clay-pit,  and  so  get'm  real ; 
Then,  just  as  my  footstep  was  leaving  the  portal, 
I  met  an  elm  targe  on  a  great  Highland  mortal, 
With  the  maid  he  had  wooed  by  the  loch's  flowery 

margelet, 

And  rowed  in  his  boat,  which  for  rhyme's  sake  call 
bargelet, 

[91] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

And  blithe  to  the  breeze  would  have  set  the  sail 
daily, 

But  it  blew  at  that  rate  which  our  sailors  term  gale, 
aye; 

I  stumbled  against  the  fair  bride  he  had  married, 

When  a  merle  gat  at  large  from  a  cage  that  she  car- 
ried; 

She  gave  a  loud  screech!  and  I  could  not  well  blame 
her, 

But  lame  as  I  was,  I'd  no  wish  to  get  lamer  ; 

So  I  made  my  escape — ne'er  an  antelope  fleeter, 

Lest  my  verse,  like  the  poet,  should  limp  through 
lag  metre. 

Dr.  John  Abernetby. 


[92] 


PALINDROMES* 


PALINDROMES 

ONE    winter's    eve    around    the   fire,   a   cosy 
group,  we  sat, 

Engaged,  as  was  our  custom  old,  in  after- 
dinner  chat: 
Small  talk  it  was,  no  doubt,  because  the  smaller 

folk  were  there, 
And  they,  the  young  monopolists!  absorbed   the 

lion's  share. 
Conundrums,     riddles,     rebuses,     cross-questions, 

puns  atrocious, 

Taxed  all  their  ingenuity,  till  Peter  the  precocious — 
Old  head  on  shoulders  juvenile — cried,  'Now  for 

a  new  task, 
Let's    try    our    hand    at    Palindromes!'  'Agreed! 

But  first,'  we  ask, 
'Pray,  Peter, what  are  Palindromes?'  The  forward 

imp  replied, 

'A  Palindrome's  a  string  of  words,  of  sense  or  mean- 
ing void, 
Which  reads  both  ways  the  same;  and  here,  with 

your  permission, 

*  Words  or  phrases  which  read  the  same  backward  or  forward. 

[93] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

I'll  cite  some  half-a-score  of  samples,  lacking  all 

precision, 
(But  held  together  by  loose  rhymes)  to  test  my 

definition!' 

"A  milksop  jilted  by  his  lass,  or  wandering  in  his 

wits, 
Might  murmur,  Stiff,  O  dairyman,  in  a  myriad  of 

fits! 

A  limner,  by  photography  dead  beat  in  competition, 
Thus  grumbled :  No,  it  is  opposed,  art  sees  trade's 

opposition  ! 
A  nonsense-loving  nephew  might  his  soldier  uncle 

dun, 
With  Now  stop,  Major-general,  are  negro  jam   pots 

won  ! 
A  supercilious  grocer,  if  inclined  that  way,  might 

snub 

A  child  with,  But  Ragusa  store,  babe,  rots  a  sugar- 
tub  ! 
Thy  sceptre,  Alexander,  is  a  fortress,  cried  Hephaes- 

tion; 
Great  A.  said,  No,  it's  a  bar  of  gold,  a  bad  log  for 

a  bastion  ! 
A  timid  creature  fearing  rodents — mice,  and  such 

small  fry — 
Stop,  Syrian,  I  start  at  rats   in   airy  spots,  might 

cry. 
A  simple  soul,  whose  wants  are  few,   might  say 

with  hearty  zest, 

Desserts  I  desire  not,  so  long  no  lost  one  rise  dis- 
tressed. 

[94] 


Palindromes 


A  stern  Canadian  parent  might — in  earnest,  not  in 

fun — 

Exclaim,  No  sot  nor  Ottawa  law  at  Toronto,  son  ! 
A  crazy  dentist  might  declare,  as  something  strange 

or  new, 
That  Paget  saw  an  Irish  tooth,  sir,  in  a  waste-gap  ! 

True! 
A  surly  student,  hating  sweets,  might  answer  with 

elan, 

Name  tarts,  no,  medieval  slave,  I  demonstrate  man  ! 
He  who  in  Nature's  bitters  findeth  sweet  food  every 

day, 

Eureka!  till  I  pull  up  ill  I  take  rue,  well  might  say." 

H.  Campkin. 


PALINDROME  LINES 

SALTA,  tu  levis  es;  summus  se  si  velut  Atlas, 
(Omina  se  sinimus,)  suminis  es  animo. 
Sin,  oro,  caret  arcana  cratera  coronis 
Unam  areas,  animes  semina  sacra  manu. 
Angere  regnato,  mutatum,  o  tangere  regna, 
Sana  tero,  tauris  si  ruat  oret  angs: 
Milo  subi  rivis,  summus  si  viribus  olim, 
Muta  sedes;  animal  lamina  sede  satum. 
Tangeret,  i  videas,  illisae  divite  regnat; 
Aut  atros  ubinam  manibus  orta  tua! 
O  tu  casurus,  rem  non  mersurus  acuto 
Telo,  sis-ne,  tenet?  non  tenet  ensis,  olet." 

Anonymous. 

[95] 


MNEMONICS 


LADY  MOON 

(How  to  tell  her  age) 

OLADY   MOON,  your  horns   point  toward 
the  east; 

Shine,  be  increased; 

3  Lady  Moon,  your  horns  point  toward  the  west; 
Wane,  be  at  rest. 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


DAYS  IN  THE  MONTHS 

'T^HIRTY  days  hath  September, 
April,  June,  and  November, 
February  has  twenty-eight  alone; 
All  the  rest  have  thirty-one, 
Excepting  leap-year, — that's  the  time 
When  February's  days  are  twenty-nine. 

Anonymous. 


[96] 


Mnemonics 


THE   PERFECT  GREYHOUND 

IF  you  would  have  a  good  tyke, 
Of  which  there  are  few  like, — 
He  must  be  headed  like  a  snake, 
Necked  like  a  drake, 
Backed  like  a  bean, 
Tailed  like  a  bat, 
And  footed  like  a  cat. 

Old  Rhyme. 


THE  CUCKOO 

The  Cuckoo's  Habits 

IN  April, 
Come  he  will; 
In  May, 

He  sings  all  day; 
In  June, 

He  changes  his  tune; 
In  July, 

He  makes  ready  to  fly; 
In  August, 
Go  he  must. 

Old  Rhyme. 


[97] 


A    IV  him  s  ey   A nt holo gy 
TWO  APPLE-HOWLING   SONGS 

[Sung  in  orchards  by  Apple-howlers  on  Twelfth  Day.] 
SURREY 

HERE  stands  a  good  apple-tree. 
Stand  fast  at  root, 
Bear  well  at  top; 
Every  little  twig 
Bear  an  apple  big; 
Every  little  bough 
Bear  an  apple  now; 
Hats  full!     Caps  full! 
Threescore  sacks  full! 
Hullo,  boys!  hullo! 

DEVONSHIRE 

HERE'S  to  thee,  old  apple-tree, 
Whence  thou  may'st  bud,  and  whence  thou 

may'st  blow, 

And  whence  thou  may'st  bear  apples  enow! 
Hats  full!  Caps  full! 
Bushel — bushel — sacks  full, 
Old  parson's  breeches  full, 
And  my  pockets  full  too! 
Huzza ! 

Anonymous. 

[98] 


Mnemonics 


DAYS  OF   BIRTH 

MONDAY'S  child  is  fair  of  face, 
Tuesday's  child  is  full  of  grace, 
Wednesday's  child  is  full  of  woe, 
Thursday's  child  has  far  to  go, 
Friday's  child  is  loving  and  giving, 
Saturday's  child  works  hard  for  its  living, 
And  a  child  that's  born  on  the  Sabbath-day 
Is  fair  and  wise  and  good  and  gay. 

Old  Rhyme. 

PROGNOSTICATIONS 

r^UT  your  nails  Monday,  you  cut  them  for  news; 
Cut  them  on  Tuesday,  a  pair  of  new  shoes; 
Cut  them  on  Wednesday  you  cut  them  for 

health; 

Cut  them  on  Thursday,  'twill  add  to  your  wealth; 
Cut  them  on  Friday,  you  cut  them  for  woe; 
Tut  them  on  Saturday,  a  journey  you'll  go; 
Dut  them  on  Sunday  you  cut  them  for  evil, 
or  all  the  week  long  you'll  be  ruled  by  the  devil. 

Anonymous. 

HOURS  OF  SLEEP 

NATURE  requires  five;  custom  gives  seven; 
Laziness  takes  nine,  and  wickedness  eleven. 

Anonymous. 

[99] 


A    Whimsey   Anthology 


OLD  ADAGE 

EARLY  to  bed  and  early  to  rise — 
Makes  a  man  healthy,  wealthy  and  wise. 

Anonymous. 

-'.  •<  h-  i  P 

OLD  SAW 

HE  who  would  thrive,  must  rise  at  five; 
He  who  hath  thriven,  may  lie  till  seven. 

Anonymous. 


FRENCH  ADAGE 

LEVER  a  cinq,  diner  a  neuf, 
Souper  a  cinq,  coucher  a  neuf, 
Fait  vivre  d'ans  nonante  et  neuf. 

Anonymous,  j 

A  CAUTION 

IF  you  your  lips 
Would  keep  from  slips, 
Of  these  five  things  beware: 
Of  whom  you  speak, 
To  whom  you  speak, 

And  how,  and  when,  and  where.    • 
Anonymous,  i 


Mnemonics 


CAUTIONS 

HE  that  spendeth  much, 
And  getteth  nought; 
He  that  oweth  much, 
And  hath  nought; 
He  that  looketh  in  his  purse 

And  findeth  nought — 
He  may  be  sorry, 
And  say  nought. 


He  that  may  and  will  not, 
He  then  that  would  shall  not, 
He  that  would  and  cannot, 
May  repent  and  sigh  not. 


He  that  sweareth 

Till  no  man  trust  him; 
He  that  lieth; 

Till  no  man  believe  him; 
He  that  borroweth 

Till  no  man  will  lend  him,- 
Let  him  go  where 

No  man  knoweth  him. 


He  that  hath  a  good  master, 
And  cannot  keep  him; 
[101] 


I4^himsey    Anthology 


He  that  hath  a  good  servant, 

And  not  content  with  him; 
He  that  hath  such  conditions 

That  no  man  loveth  him, — 
May  well  know  other, 

But  few  men  will  know  him. 

Hugh  Rhodes. 


PHILOSOPHIC  ADVICE 

HE  who  knows  not.  and    knows  not  that  he 
knows  not;  he  is  a  fool,  shun  him. 
He  who  knows  not,  and    knows  that  he 

knows  not;  he  is  simple,  teach  him. 
He  who   knows,  and   knows  not  that   he  knows; 

he  is  asleep,  wake  him. 

He  who  knows,  and  knows  that  he  knows;  he  is 
wise,  follow  him. 

Anonymous. 


THE   RIGHT  SORT  OF  A  FELLOW 

YOU  may  know  the  fellow 
Who  thinks  he  thinks, 
Or  the  fellow  who  thinks  he  knows; 
But  find  the  fellow 

Who  knows  he  thinks — 
And  you  know  the  fellow  who  knows. 

Anonymous. 

[  102  ] 


Mnemonics 


A  MAN  OF  WORDS 

A  MAN  of  words  and  not  of  deeds, 
Is  like  a  garden  full  of  weeds; 
And  when  the  weeds  begin  to  grow, 
It's  like  a  garden  full  of  snow; 
And  when  the  snow  begins  to  fall, 
It's  like  a  bird  upon  the  wall; 
And  when  the  bird  away  does  fly, 
It's  like  an  eagle  in  the  sky; 
And  when  the  sky  begins  to  roar, 
It's  like  a  lion  at  the  door; 
And  when  the  door  begins  to  crack, 
It's  like  a  stick  across  your  back; 
And  when  your  back  begins  to  smart, 
It's  like  a  penknife  in  your  heart; 
And  when  your  heart  begins  to  bleed, 
You're  dead,  and  dead,  and  dead  indeed. 

Anonymous. 


SHERIDAN'S  CALENDAR 

JANUARY  snowy, 
February  flowy, 
•J      March  blowy, 

April  showry, 
May  flowery, 
June  bowery, 

c  103] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

July  moppy, 
August  croppy, 
September  poppy, 

October  breezy, 
November  wheezy, 
December  freezy. 


A  RULE  OF  THREE 

THERE  is  a  rule  to  drink, 
I  think, 
A  rule  of  three 
That  you'll  agree 
With  me 

Cannot  be  beaten 
And  tends  our  lives  to  sweeten: 
Drink  ere  you  eat, 
And  while  you  eat, 
And  after  you  have  eaten ! 

Wallace  Rice. 


REASONS  FOR  DRINKING 

IF  all  be  true  that  I  do  think, 
There  are  five  reasons  we  should  drink; 
Good  wine — a  friend — or  being  dry — 
Or  lest  we  should  be  by  and  by — 
Or  any  other  reason  why. 

Dr.  Henry  Aldrich. 

[  104] 


Mnemonics 


A  BACCHANALIAN  TOAST 


TARINK  up 


Your  cup, 

But  not  spill  wine; 

For  if  you 

Do 
'Tis  an  ill  sign. 

Robert  Herrick. 


[105] 


CATALOGUE   WHIMSEYS 


THE   HUNDRED  BEST  BOOKS 

FIRST  there's  the  Bible, 
And  then  the  Koran, 
Odgers  on  Libel, 
Pope's  Essay  on  Man, 
Confessions  of  Rousseau, 

The  Essays  of  Lamb, 
Robinson  Crusoe 

And  Omar  Khayyam, 
Volumes  of  Shelley 

And  Venerable  Bede, 
Machiavelli 

And  Captain  Mayne  Reid, 
Fox  upon  Martyrs 

And  Liddell  and  Scott, 
Stubbs  on  the  Charters, 

The  works  of  La  Motte, 
The  Seasons  by  Thomson, 

And  Paul  de  Verlaine, 
Theodore  Mommsen 

And  Clemens  (Mark  Twain), 
The  Rocks  of  Hugh  Miller, 

The  Mill  on  the  Floss, 
The  Poems  of  Schiller, 

The  Iliados, 

[106] 


Catalogue    IV him s ey s 


Don  Quixote  (Cervantes), 

La  Pucelle  by  Voltaire, 
Inferno  (that's  Dante's), 

And  Vanity  Fair, 
Conybeare-Howson, 

Brillat-Savarin, 
And  Baron  Munchausen, 

Mademoiselle  De  Maupin, 
The  Dramas  of  Marlowe, 

The  Three  Musketeers, 
Clarissa  Harlowe, 

And  the  Pioneers, 
Sterne's  Tristram  Shandy, 

The  Ring  and  the  Book, 
And  Handy  Andy, 

And  Captain  Cook, 
The  Plato  of  Jowett, 

And  Mill's  Pol.  Econ., 
The  Haunts  of  Howitt, 

The  Encheiridion, 
Lothair  by  Disraeli, 

And  Boccaccio, 
The  Student's  Paley, 

And  Westward  Ho! 
The  Pharmacopoeia, 

Macaulay's  Lays, 
Of  course  The  Medea, 

And  Sheridan's  Plays, 
The  Odes  of  Horace, 

And  Verdant  Green, 
The  Poems  of  Morris, 

The  Faerie  Queen, 

[107] 


A    Whimsey    AnthoCogy 

The  Stones  of  Venice, 

Natural  History  (White's), 
And  then  Pendennis, 

The  Arabian  Nights, 
Cicero's  Orations, 

Plain  Tales  from  the  Hills, 
The  Wealth  of  Nations, 

And  Byles  on  Bills, 
As  in  a  Glass  Darkly, 

Demosthenes'  Crown, 
The  Treatise  of  Berkeley, 

Tom  Hughes's  Tom  Brown, 
The  Mahabharata, 

The  Humour  of  Hook, 
The  Kreutzer  Sonata, 

And  Lalla  Rookh, 
Great  Battles  by  Creasy, 

And  Hudibras, 
And  Midshipman  Easy, 

And  Rasselas, 
Shakespeare  in  extenso 

And  the  ^Ejid4^ 
And  Euclid  (Colenso), 

The  Woman  who  Did, 
Poe's  Tales  of  Mystery, 

Then  Rabelais, 
Guizot's  French  History, 

And  Men  of  the  Day, 
Rienzi,  by  Lytton, 

The  Poems  of  Burns, 
The  Story  of  Britain, 

The  Journey  (that's  Sterne's), 

[108] 


Catalogue    W ' bims ey s 


The  House  of  Seven  Gables, 

Carroll's  Looking-glass, 
JEsop  his  Fables, 

And  Leaves  of  Grass, 
Departmental  Ditties, 

The  Woman  in  White, 
The  Tale  of  Two  Cities, 

Ships  that  Pass  in  the  Night, 
Meredith's  Feverel, 

Gibbon's  Decline, 
Walter  Scott's  Peveril, 

And — some  verses  of  mine. 

Mostyn  T.  Pigott. 


A  RHYME   FOR  MUSICIANS 


H 


ANDEL,  Bendel,  Mendelssohn, 
Brendel,  Wendel,  Jadassohn, 
Muller,  Hiller,  Heller,  Franz, 
Plothow,  Flotow,  Burto,  Ganz. 


Meyer,  Geyer,  Meyerbeer, 
Heyer,  Weyer,  Beyer,  Beer, 
Lichner,  Lachner,  Schachner,  Dietz, 
Hill,  Will,  Brull,  Grill,  Drill,  Reiss,  Rietz. 

Hansen,  Jansen,  Jensen,  Kiehl, 
Siade,  Gade,  Laade,  Stiehl, 
Naumann,  Riemann,  Diener,  Wurst, 
Niemann,  Kiemann,  Diener,  Furst. 

[  109] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Kochler,  Dochler,  Rubinstein, 
Himmel,  Hummel,  Rosenhain, 
Lauer,  Bauer,  Kleinecke, 
Homberg,  Plomberg,  Reinecke. 

E.  Lemke. 


A 


'TIS   EVER  THUS 

D  astra,  De  Profundis, 

Keats,  Bacchus,  Sophocles; 
Ars  Longa,  Euthanasia, 
Spring,  The  Eumenides. 


Dead  Leaves,  Metempsychosis, 

Waiting,  Theocritus; 
Vanitas  Vanitatum, 

My  Ship,  De  Gustibus. 

Dum  Vivimus  Vivamus, 

Sleep,  Palingenesis; 
Salvini,  Sursum  Corda, 

At  Mt.  Desert,  To  Miss  - 


These  are  part  of  the  contents 

Of  "Violets  of  Song," 
The  first  poetic  volume 

Of  Susan  Mary  Strong. 

R.  K.  Munkittrick. 

[no] 


Catalogue    W  hims  ey  s 


INDIAN  TRIBES 

THE    Sioux    and    the  Algonquins,  where  are 
these? 
Where,    too,    are    now   the     Hurons     and 

Pawnees, 

The  Chickasaws,  Oneidas,  and  Shawnees, 
The  Winnebagos,  and  the  Muscogees, 
The  Saukies,  the  Comanches,  and  Uchees, 
The  Kansas,  Seminoles,  and  Weetumkees, 
The  Mohegans,  Nihantics,  and  Natchees, 
The  Pequots,  Miamis,  and  Yamasees, 
The  Tuscaroras  and  the  Waterees, 
The  Narragansetts,  and  Menomonees, 
The  Choctaws,  Delawares,  and  Cherokees, 
The  Eries,  Yamacraws,  and  Mosokees, 
The  Mohawks,  and  the  Chickahominies, 
The  Kickapoos,  and  tall  Walhominies, 
The  Androscoggins,  and  the  Omahas, 
The  Alibams,  and  Mitchigamuas, 
The  Tangeboas,  and  the  Pammahas, 
The  Apalachias,  and  the  Ostonoos, 
The  Sacs  and  Foxes  and  the  Onodoos, 
The  Pottawattomies  and  loways, 
The  Creeks,  Catawbas,  and  Ojibbeways, 
The  Senecas,  Peorias,  and  Crows — 
Who  sank  beneath  the  burden  of  their  woes? 
How  few  remain  of  all  those  valiant  hosts 
That  peopled  once  the  prairies  and  the  coasts  ? 

Anonymous 

Cm] 


A    Whimsey   Anthology 


SIGNS  OF  RAIN 

(Forty  reasons  for  not  accepting  an  invitation  of  a 
friend  to  make  an  excursion  with  him.) 

1.  THE  hollow  winds  begin  to  blow; 

2.  The  clouds  look  black,  the  glass  is  low, 

3.  The  soot  falls  down,  the  spaniels  sleep, 

4.  And  spiders  from  their  cobwebs  peep. 

5.  Last  night  the  sun  went  pale  to  bed, 

6.  The  moon  in  halos  hid  her  head; 

7.  The  boding  shepherd  heaves  a  sigh, 

8.  For  see,  a  rainbow  spans  the  sky! 

9.  The  walls  are  damp,  the  ditches  smell, 

10.  Closed  is  the  pink-hued  pimpernel. 

11.  Hark  how  the  chairs  and  tables  crack! 

12.  Old  Betty's  nerves  are  on  the  rack; 

13.  Loud  quacks  the  duck,  the  peacocks  cry, 

14.  The  distant  hills  are  seeming  nigh, 

15.  How  restless  are  the  snorting  swine! 

16.  The  busy  flies  disturb  the  kine, 

17.  Low  o'er  the  grass  the  swallow  wings, 

1 8.  The  cricket,  too,  how  sharp  he  sings! 

19.  Puss  on  the  hearth,  with  velvet  paws, 

20.  Sits  wiping  o'er  her  whiskered  jaws; 

21.  Through  the  clear  streams  the  fishes  rise, 

22.  And  nimble  catch  the  incautious  flies. 

23.  The  glow-worms,  numerous  and  light, 

24.  Illumed  the  dewy  dell  last  night; 

25.  At  dusk  the  squalid  toad  was  seen, 

26.  Hopping  and  crawling  o'er  the  green; 


C  at  c.logu  e    IV him  s  ey  s 

27.  The  whirling  dust  the  wind  obeys, 

28.  And  in  the  rapid  eddy  plays; 

29.  The  frog  has  changed  his  yellow  vest, 

30.  And  in  a  russet  coat  is  dressed. 

31.  Though  June  the  air  is  cold  and  still, 

32.  The  mellow  blackbird's  voice  is  shrill; 

33.  My  dog,  so  altered  in  his  taste, 

34.  Quits  mutton-bones  on  grass  to  feast; 

35.  And  see  yon  rooks,  how  odd  their  flight! 

36.  They  imitate  the  gliding  kite, 

37.  And  seem  precipitate  to  fall, 

38.  As  if  they  felt  the  piercing  ball. 

39.  'Twill  surely  rain;  I  see  with  sorrow 

40.  Our  jaunt  must  be  put  off  to-morrow. 

Edward  Jenner. 

SIMILES 

AS  wet  as  a  fish — as  dry  as  a  bone; 
As  live  as  a  bird — as  dead  as  a  stone; 
As  plump  as  a  partridge — as  poor  as  a  rat; 
As  strong  as  a  horse — as  weak  as  a  cat; 
As  hard  as  a  flint — as  soft  as  a  mole; 
As  white  as  a  lily — as  black  as  a  coal; 
As  plain  as  a  pike-staff — as  rough  as  a  bear; 
As  light  as  a  drum — as  free  as  the  air; 
As  heavy  as  lead — as  light  as  a  feather; 
As  steady  as  time — uncertain  as  weather; 
As  hot  as  an  oven — as  cold  as  a  frog; 
As  gay  as  a  lark — as  sick  as  a  dog; 
As  slow  as  the  tortoise — as  swift  as  the  wind; 
As  true  as  the  Gospel — as  false  as  mankind; 

[113] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

As  thin  as  a  herring — as  fat  as  a  pig; 

As  proud  as  a  peacock — as  blithe  as  a  grig; 

As  savage  as  tigers — as  mild  as  a  dove; 

As  stiff  as  a  poker — as  limp  as  a  glove; 

As  blind  as  a  bat — as  deaf  as  a  post; 

As  cool  as  a  cucumber — as  warm  as  a  toast; 

As  flat  as  a  flounder — as  round  as  a  ball; 

As  blunt  as  a  hammer — as  sharp  as  an  awl; 

As  red  as  a  ferret — as  safe  as  the  stocks; 

As  bold  as  a  thief — as  sly  as  a  fox; 

As  straight  as  an  arrow — as  crook'd  as  a  bow; 

As  yellow  as  saffron — as  black  as  a  sloe; 

As  brittle  as  glass — as  tough  as  gristle; 

As  neat  as  my  nail — as  clean  as  a  whistle; 

As  good  as  a  feast — as  bad  as  a  witch; 

As  light  as  is  day — as  dark  as  is  pitch; 

As  brisk  as  a  bee — as  dull  as  an  ass; 

As  full  as  a  tick — as  solid  as  brass. 

Anonymous. 


A  NURSERY  RHYME 

ONE  old  Oxford  ox  opening  oysters; 
Two  teetotums  totally  tired   trying  to  trot 

to  Tadbury; 

Three  tall  tigers  tippling  ten  penny  tea; 
Four  fat  friars  fanning  fainting  flies; 
Five  frippy  Frenchmen  foolishly  fishing  for  flies; 
Six  sportsmen  shooting  snipes; 
Seven  Severn  salmons  swallowing  shrimps; 
Eight  Englishmen  eagerly  examining  Europe; 


Catalogue    W  him  s  ey  s 

Nine  nimble  noblemen  nibbling  nonpareils; 

Ten  tinkers  tinkling  upon  ten  tin  tinder-boxes  with 
ten  tenpenny  tacks; 

Eleven  elephants  elegantly  equipt; 

Twelve  typographical  typographers  typically  trans- 
lating types. 

Anonymous. 


G 


LONDON  BELLS 

I  AY  go  up  and  gay  go  down, 

To  ring  the  bells  of  London  town. 


Bull's  eyes  and  targets, 

Say  the  bells  of  St.  Marg'ret's. 

Brickbats  and  tiles, 

Say  the  bells  of  St.  Giles'. 

Halfpence  and  farthings, 
Say  the  bells  of  St.  Martin's. 

Oranges  and  lemons, 

Say  the  bells  of  St.  Clement's. 

Pancakes  and  fritters, 
Say  the  bells  of  St.  Peter's. 

Two  sticks  and  an  apple, 
Say  the  bells  at  WhitechapeL 

[US] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Old  Father  Baldpate, 

Say  the  slow  bells  at  Aldgate. 

You  owe  me  ten  shillings, 
Say  the  bells  at  St.  Helen's. 

Poker  and  tongs, 

Say  the  bells  at  St.  John's. 

Kettles  and  pans, 

Say  the  bells  at  St.  Ann's. 

When  will  you  pay  me? 
Say  the  bells  of  Old  Bailey. 

When  I  grow  rich, 

Say  the  bells  at  Shoreditch. 

Pray  when  will  that  be  ? 
Say  the  bells  at  Stepney. 

I  am  sure  I  don't  know, 
Says  the  great  bell  at  Bow. 

Here  comes  a  candle  to  light  you  to  bed, 

And  here  comes  a  chopper  to  chop  off  your  head.  ! 

Anonymous. 


[116] 


Catalogue    IV  him  s  ey  s 

HE   COURT   OF   ALDERMEN  AT    FISH- 
MONGERS*   HALL 

IS  that  dace  or  perch?" 
Said  Alderman  Birch; 
"I  take  it  for  herring/' 

Said  Alderman  Perring. 
"This  jack's  very  good," 

Said  Alderman  Wood; 
"  But  its  bones  might  a  man  slay," 

Said  Alderman  Ansley. 
"I'll  butter  what  I  get," 

Said  Alderman  Heygate. 
"Give  me  some  stewed  carp," 

Said  Alderman  Thorp. 
"The  roe's  dry  as  pith," 

Said  Alderman  Smith. 
"Don't  cut  so  far  down," 

Said  Alderman  Brown; 
"But  nearer  the  fin," 

Said  Alderman  Glyn, 
"I've  finished,  i'  faith,  man," 

Said  Alderman  Waithman: 
"And  I,  too,  i'  fatkins," 

Said  Alderman  Atkins. 
"They've  crimped  this  cod  drolly," 

Said  Alderman  Scholey; 
'  'Tis  bruised  at  the  ridges," 

Said  Alderman  Brydges. 
"Was  it  caught  in  a  drag?     Nay," 

Said  Alderman  Magnay. 


A    W  him  s  ey    A  n  t  ho  lo  gy 

"Twas  brought  by  two  men," 

Said  Alderman  Ven — 
ables:  "Yes,  in  a  box/' 

Said  Alderman  Cox. 
"They  care  not  how  fur  'tis," 

Said  Alderman  Curtis — 
"From  the  air  kept,  and  from  sun/' 

Said  Alderman  Thompson; 
"Packed  neatly  in  straw," 

Said  Alderman  Shaw: 
"In  ice  got  from  Gunter," 

Said  Alderman  Hunter. 
"This  ketchup  is  sour," 

Said  Alderman  Flower; 
"Then  steep  it  in  claret," 

Said  Alderman  Garret. 

Anonymous. 


EARTH 

WHAT    is    earth,    Sexton? — A  place  to  dig  I 
graves. 
What   is  earth,  Rich   man  ? — A  place  to 

work  slaves. 

What  is  earth,  Greybeard  ? — A  place  to  grow  old. 
What  is  earth,  Miser  ? — A  place  to  dig  gold. 
What  is  earth,  Schoolboy  ? — A  place  for  my  play. 
What  is  earth,  Maiden  ? — A  place  to  be  gay. 
What    is    earth,    Seamstress  ? — A    place  where   I 

weep. 
What  is  earth,  Sluggard  ? — A  good  place  to  sleep. 

[118] 


Catalogue    Whimseys 

What  is  earth.  Soldier? — A  place  for  a  battle. 

What  is  earth,  Herdsman  ? — A  place  to  raise  cattle. 

What  is  earth,  Widow? — A  place  of  true  sorrow. 

What  is  earth,  Tradesman? — I'll  tell  you  to-mor- 
row. 

What  is  earth,  Sick  man  ? — 'Tis  nothing  to  me. 

What  is  earth,  Sailor? — My  home  is  the  sea. 

What  is  earth,  Statesman? — A  place  to  win  fame. 

What  is  earth,  Author? — I'll  write  there  my  name. 

What   is   earth,   Monarch  ? — For  my   realm   it  is 
given. 

What     is    earth,    Christian  ? — The    gateway    of 
heaven. 

Anonymous. 


THE  JOYS  OF  MARRIAGE 

HOW  uneasy  is  his  life, 
Who  is  troubled  with  a  wife! 
Be  she  ne'er  so  fair  or  comely, 
Be  she  ne'er  so  foul  or  homely, 
Be  she  ne'er  so  young  and  toward, 
Be  she  ne'er  so  old  and  froward, 
Be  she  kind,  with  arms  enfolding, 
Be  she  cross,  and  always  scolding, 
Be  she  blithe  or  melancholy, 
Have  she  wit,  or  have  she  folly, 
Be  she  wary,  be  she  squandering, 
Be  she  staid,  or  be  she  wandering, 
Be  she  constant,  be  she  fickle, 
Be  she  fire,  or  be  she  ickle; 

[119] 


A    W him  s  ey    Anthology 

Be  she  pious  or  ungodly, 

Be  she  chaste,  or  what  sounds  oddly: 

Lastly,  be  she  good  or  evil, 

Be  she  saint,  or  be  she  devil, — 

Yet,  uneasy  is  his  life 

Who  is  married  to  a  wife. 

Charles  Cotton. 


A  NEW-YEAR'S  GIFT  FOR  SHREWS 

WHO  marrieth  a  wife  upon  a  Monday, 
If  she  will  not  be  good  upon  a  Tuesday, 
Let  him  go  to  the  wood  upon  a  Wednes- 
day, 

And  cut  him  a  cudgel  upon  the  Thursday, 
And  pay  her  soundly  upon  a  Friday: 
And  she  mend  not,  the  divil  take  her  a*  Saturday: 
Then  he  may  eat  his  meat  in  peace  on  the  Sunday. 

Anonymous. 


T 


ONE  WEEK 

»HE  year  had  gloomily  begun 

For  Willie  Weeks,  a  poor  man's  SUN. 


He  was  beset  with  bill  and  dun 

And  he  had  very  little  MON. 

"This  cash,"  said  he,  "won't  pay  my  dues, 

I've  nothing  here  but  ones  and  TUES." 
[   120] 


Catalogue    W him s ey s 


A  bright  thought  struck  him,  and  he  said, 

"The  rich  Miss  Goldrocks  I  will  WED.' 


But  when  he  paid  his  court  to  her, 

She  lisped,  but  firmly  said,  "No,  THUR!" 

"Alas!"  said  he,  "then  I  must  die!" 

His  soul  went  where  they  say  souls  FRI. 

They  found  his  gloves,  and  coat,  and  hat; 

The  Coroner  upon  them  SAT. 
Carolyn    Wells. 


[121] 


TONGUE   TWISTERS 


THE  TWINER 

WHEN  a  twiner  a  twisting  will  twist  him  a 
twist, 
For  the  twining  his  twist  he  three  twines 

doth  entwist; 

But  if  one  of  the  twines  of  the  twist  do  untwist, 
The  twine  that  untwisteth,  untwisteth  the  twist. 

Untwirling  the  twine  that  untwisteth  between, 
He  twists  with  his  twister  the  two  in  a  twine; 
Then  twice  having  twisted  the  twines  of  the  twine, 
He  twisteth  the  twines  he  had  twisted  in  vain. 

The  twain  that,  in  twisting  before  in  the  twine, 
As  twines  were  entwisted,  he  now  doth  untwine, 
'Twixt  the  twain  intertwisting  a  twine  more  between 
He,  twisting  his  twister,  makes  a  twist  of  the  twine. 

Dr.    Wallis. 


Q 


UN  CORDIER 

UAND  un  cordier  cordant 
Veut  corder  une  corde, 
Trois  cordons  accordant 
A  sa  corde  il  accorde. 

[  122] 


Tongue    Twisters 


Si  Tun  des  trois  cordons 

De  la  corde  decorde, 
Le  cordon  decordant 

Fait  decorder  la  corde. 

Allain  Chattier. 


THE  THATCHER 

A  THATCHER  of  Thatchwood  went  to  That- 
chet  a-thatching; 
Did    a    Thatcher    of   Thatchwood    go    to 

Thatchet  a-thatching? 
If  a  thatcher  of  Thatchwood  went  to  Thatchet  a- 

thatching, 

Where's  the  thatching  the  thatcher  of  Thatchwood 
has  thatched  ? 

Anonymous. 


PETER   PIPER 

T)ETER  PIPER  picked  a  peck  of  pickled  pep- 
pers. 

A  peck  of  pickled  peppers  Peter  Piper  picked. 
If  Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickled  peppers, 
Where's  the  peck  of  pickled  peppers  Peter  Piper 
picked  ? 

Anonymous. 


[  123  ] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


SIMPLE   ENGLISH 

OFTTIMES  when  I  put  on  my  gloves, 
I  wonder  if  I'm  sane, 
For  when  I  put  the  right  one  on, 

The  right  seems  to  remain 
To  be  put  on — that  is,  'tis  left; 

Yet  if  the  left  I  don, 
The  other  one  is  left,  and  then 

I  have  the  right  one  on. 
But  still  I  have  the  left  on  right; 

The  right  one,  though,  is  left 
To  go  right  on  the  left  right  hand 
All  right,  if  I  am  deft. 

Ray  Clarke  Rose. 


WHAT  HIAWATHA  PROBABLY  DID 

HE  slew  the  noble  Mudjekeewis, 
With  his  skin  he  made  him  mittens; 
Made  them  with  the  fur  side  inside; 
Made  them  with  the  skin-side  outside; 
He,  to  keep  the  warm  side  inside, 
Put  the  cold  side,  skin-side  outside; 
He,  to  keep  the  cold  side  outside, 
Put  the  warm  side,  fur-side,  inside: — 
That's  why  he  put  the  cold  side  outside, 
Why  he  put  the  warm  side  inside, 
Why  he  turned  them  inside  outside. 

Anonymous, 


MONORHYMES 


UNDER  THE  TREES 

UNDER  the  trees!"     Who  but  agrees 
That  there  is  magic  in  words  such  as  these : 
Promptly  one  sees  shake  in  the  breeze 
Stately  lime-avenues  haunted  of  bees: 
Where,  looking  far  over  buttercupp'd  leas, 
Lads  and  "fair  shes"  (that  is  Byron,  and  he's 
An  authority)  lie  very  much  at  their  ease; 
Taking  their  teas,  or  their  duck  and  green  peas, 
Or,  if  they  prefer  it,  their  plain  bread  and  cheese: 
Not  objecting  at  all,  though  it's  rather  a  squeeze, 
And  the  glass  is,  I  daresay,  at  80  degrees. 
Some  get  up  glees,  and  are  mad  about  Ries 
And  Sainton,  and  Tamberlik's  thrilling  high  Cs; 
Or  if  painters,  hold  forth  upon  Hunt  and  Maclise, 
And  the  tone  and  the  breadth  of  that  landscape  of 

Lee's; 

Or,  if  learned,  on  nodes  and  the  moon's  apogees, 
Or,  if  serious,  on  something  of  A.K.H.B.'s, 
Or  the  latest  attempt  to  convert  the  Chaldees; 
Or  in  short  about  all  things,  from  earthquakes  to 

fleas. 

Some  sit  in  twos  or  (less  frequently)  threes, 
With  their  innocent  lambswool  or  book  on  their 

knees, 


A    JVhimsey    Anthology 

And  talk,  and  enact,  any  nonsense  you  please, 
As  they  gaze  into  eyes  that  are  blue  as  the  seas; 
And  you  hear  an  occasional  "Harry,  don't  tease" 
From  the  sweetest  of  lips  in  the  softest  of  keys, 
And  other  remarks,  which  to  me  are  Chinese. 
And  fast  the  time  flees;  till  a  ladylike  sneeze, 
Or  a  portly  papa's  more  elaborate  wheeze, 
Makes  Miss  Tabitha  seize  on  her  brown  muffatees, 
And  announce  as  a  fact  that  it's  going  to  freeze, 
And  that  young  people  ought  to  attend  to  their  Ps 
And  their  Qs,  and  not  court  every  form  of  disease. 
Then  Tommy  eats  up  the  three  last  ratafias, 
And  pretty  Louise  wraps  her  robe  de  cerise 
Round  a  bosom  as  tender  as  Widow  Machree's, 
And  (in  spite  of  the  pleas  of  her  lorn  vis-a-vis) 
Goes  to  wrap  up  her  uncle — a  patient  of  Skey's, 
Who  is  prone  to  catch  chills,  like  all  old  Bengalese: — 
But  at  bedtime  I  trust  he'll  remember  to  grease 
The  bridge  of  his  nose,  and  preserve  his  rupees 
From  the  premature  clutch  of  his  fond  legatees; 
Or  at  least  have  no  fees  to  pay  any  M.D.s 
For  the  cold  his  niece  caught,  sitting  under  the  Trees. 

C.  S.   Calverley. 


THE   RULING   POWER 

GOLD!  Gold!  Gold!  Gold! 
Bright  and  yellow,  hard  and  cold, 
Molten,  graven,  hammered  and  rolled; 
Heavy  to  get,  and  light  to  hold; 
Hoarded,  bartered,  bought  and  sold, 

[126] 


M  on  or  hy  m  e  s 


Stolen,  borrowed,  squandered,  doled; 
Spurned  by  the  young,  but  hugged  by  the  old, 
To  the  very  verge  of  the  churchyard  mould; 
Price  of  many  a  crime  untold; 
Gold!  Gold!  Gold!  Gold! 
Good  or  bad,  a  thousandfold! 

Thomas  Hood 


THE  MUSICAL  ASS 

r  I  AHE  fable  which  I  now  present, 
Occurred  to  me  by  accident: 
And  whether  bad  or  excellent, 

Is  merely  so  by  accident. 

A  stupid  ass  this  morning  went 

Into  a  field  by  accident: 

And  cropped  his  food,  and  was  content, 

Until  he  spied  by  accident 

A  flute,  which  some  oblivious  gent 

Had  left  behind  by  accident; 

When,  sniffling  it  with  eager  scent, 

He  breathed  on  it  by  accident, 

And  made  the  hollow  instrument 

Emit  a  sound  by  accident. 

"Hurrah,  hurrah!"  exclaimed  the  brute, 

"How  cleverly  I  play  the  flute!" 

A  fool,  in  spite  of  nature's  bent, 
May  shine  for  once, — by  accident. 

Tomaso  de   Tnarte, 

[  127] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


THE   ROMAN  NOSE 

r  I  AHAT  Roman  nose!  that  Roman  nose! 
Has  robbed  my  bosom  of  repose; 
For  when  in  sleep  my  eyelids  close, 
It  haunts  me  still,  that  Roman  nose! 

Between  two  eyes  as  black  as  sloes 
The  bright  and  flaming  ruby  glows: 
That  Roman  nose!  that  Roman  nose! 
And  beats  the  blush  of  damask  rose. 

I  walk  the  streets,  the  alleys,  rows; 

I  look  at  all  the  Jems  and  Joes; 

And  old  and  young,  and  friends  and  foes, 

But  cannot  find  a  Roman  nose! 

Then  blessed  be  the  day  I  chose 
That  nasal  beauty  of  my  beau's; 
And  when  at  last  to  Heaven  I  goes, 
I  hope  to  spy  his  Roman  nose! 

Merrie  England 


TO  MRS.  THRALE  ON  HER  THIRTY- 
FIFTH   BIRTHDAY 

OFT  in  danger,  yet  alive, 
We  are  come  to  thirty-five; 
Long  may  better  years  arrive, 
Better  years  than  thirty-five. 

[128]  ' 


M  on  or  hy  m  e  s 


Could  philosophers  contrive 

Life  to  stop  at  thirty-five, 

Time  his  hours  should  never  drive 

O'er  the  bounds  of  thirty-five. 

High  to  soar,  and  deep  to  dive, 

Nature  gives  at  thirty-five. 

Ladies,  stock  and  tend  your  hive, 

Trifle  not  at  thirty-five; 

For,  howe'er  we  boast  and  strive, 

Life  declines  from  thirty-five. 

He  that  ever  hopes  to  thrive 

Must  begin  by  thirty-five; 

And  all  who  wisely  wish  to  wive 

Must  look  on  Thrale  at  thirty-five. 

Bo  swell. 

A  RHYME  FOR  TIPPERARY 

A  POET  there  was  in  sad  quandary, 
To  find  a  rhyme  for  Tipperary. 
Long  laboured  he  through  January, 
Yet  found  no  rhyme  for  Tipperary; 
Toiled  every  day  in  February, 
But  toiled  in  vain  for  Tipperary; 
Searched  Hebrew  text  and  commentary 
But  searched  in  vain  for  Tipperary; 
Bored  all  his  friends  in  Inverary, 
To  find  a  rhyme  for  Tipperary; 
Implored  the  aid  of  "Paddy  Gary," 
Yet  still  no  rhyme  for  Tipperary; 
He  next  besought  his  mother  Mary 
To  tell  him  rhyme  for  Tipperary; 

[  129] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

But  she,  good  woman,  was  no  fairy, 

Nor  witch, — though  born  in  Tipperary; 

Knew  everything  about  her  dairy, 

But  not  the  rhyme  for  Tipperary; 

The  stubborn  Muse  he  could  not  vary, 

For  still  the  lines  would  run  contrary 

Whene'er  he  thought  on  Tipperary. 

And  though  of  time  he  was  not  chary, 

'Twas  thrown  away  on  Tipperary. 

Till  of  his  wild-goose  chase  most  weary, 

He  vowed  he'd  leave  out  Tipperary. 

But  no — the  theme  he  might  not  vary, 

His  longing  was  not  temporary, 

To  find  meet  rhyme  for  Tipperary. 

He  sought  among  the  gay  and  airy, 

He  pestered  all  the  military. 

Committed  many  a  strange  vagary, 

Bewitched,  it  seemed,  by  Tipperary. 

He  wrote,  post-haste,  to  Darby  Leary, 

Besought  with  tears  his  Aunty  Sairie; 

But  sought  he  far,  or  sought  he  near,  he 

Ne'er  found  a  rhyme  for  Tipperary. 

He  travelled  sad  through  Cork  and  Kerry, 

He  drove  like  mad  through  sweet  Dunleary, 

Kicked  up  a  precious  tantar-ara, 

But  found  no  rhyme  for  Tipperary; 

Lived  fourteen  weeks  at  Stan-ar-ara, 

Was  well-nigh  lost  in  Glenegary, 

Then  started  slick  for  Denerara, 

In  search  of  rhyme  for  Tipperary. 

Through  Yankee-land,  sick,  solitary. 

He  roamed  by  forest,  lake,  and  prairie, 

[  130] 


M  on  or  hy  m  e  s 


He  went  per  terrain  et  per  mare, 

But  found  no  rhyme  for  Tipperary. 

Through  orient  climes  on  Dromedary, 

On  camel's  back  through  great  Sahara; 

His  travels  were  extraordinary 

In  search  of  rhyme  for  Tipperary. 

Fierce  as  a  gorgon  on  chimaera, 

Fierce  as  Alecto  or  Megaera, 

Fiercer  than  e'er  a  love-sick  bear,  he 

Ranged  through  the  'Monde "  of  Tipperary. 

His  cheeks  grew  thin  and  wondrous  hairy, 

His  visage  long,  his  aspect  "eerie," 

His  tout  ensemble,  faith,  would  scare  ye, 

Amidst  the  wilds  of  Tipperary. 

Becoming  hypochon-dri-ary, 

He  sent  for  his  apothecary, 

Who  ordered  "balm"  and  "saponary," 

Herbs  rare  to  find  in  Tipperary. 

In  his  potations  ever  wary, 

His  choicest  drink  was  "home  gooseberry." 

On  swipes,  skim-milk,  and  smallest  beer,  he 

Hunted  rhyme  for  his  Tipperary. 

Had  he  imbibed  good  old  Madeira, 

Drank  pottle-deep  of  golden  sherry 

Of  FalstafFs  sack,  or  ripe  Canary, 

No  rhyme  had  lacked  for  Tipperar 

Or  had  his  tastes  been  literary, 

He  might  have  found  extemporary 

Without  the  aid  of  dictionary, 

Some  fitting  rhyme  for  Tipperary. 

Or  had  he  seen  an  antiquary, 

Burnt  midnight  oil  in  his  library, 


A    JVhimsey    Anthology 

Or  been  of  temper  less  "camstary," 
Rhymes  had  not  lacked  for  Tipperary. 
He  paced  about  his  aviary, 
Blew  up,  sky-high,  his  secretary, 
And  then  in  wrath  and  anger  sware  he, 
There  was  no  rhyme  for  Tipperary. 

Dr.  Fitzgerald. 


THE    DONERAILE    LITANY 


A 


LAS!  how  dismal  is  my  tale! — 
I  lost  my  watch  in  Doneraile; 
My  Dublin  watch,  my  chain  and  seal,] 
Pilfered  at  once  in  Doneraile. 


May  fire  and  brimstone  never  fail 
To  fall  in  showers  on  Doneraile; 
May  all  the  leading  fiends  assail 
The  thieving  town  of  Doneraile. 

As  lightnings  flash  across  the  vale, 
So  down  to  hell  with  Doneraile; 
The  fate  of  Pompey  at  Pharsale, 
Be  that  the  curse  of  Doneraile. 

May  beef  or  mutton,  lamb  or  veal, 
Be  never  found  in  Doneraile; 
But  garlic-soup  and  scurvy  kail 
Be  still  the  food  for  Doneraile. 

[  132] 


M  on  or  hy  m  e  s 


And  forward  as  the  creeping  snail 
The  industry  be  of  Doneraile; 
May  Heaven  a  chosen  curse  entail 
On  rigid,  rotten  Doneraile. 

May  sun  and  moon  for  ever  fail 
To  beam  their  lights  in  Doneraile; 
May  every  pestilential  gale 
Blast  that  curst  spot  called  Doneraile. 

May  no  sweet  cuckoo,  thrush,  or  quail, 
Be  ever  heard  in  Doneraile; 
May  patriots,  kings,  and  commonweal, 
Despise  and  harass  Doneraile. 

May  every  Post,  Gazette,  and  Mail, 
Sad  tidings  bring  of  Doneraile; 
May  loudest  thunders  ring  a  peal 
To  blind  and  deafen  Doneraile. 

May  vengeance  fall  at  head  and  tail, 
From  north  to  south,  at  Doneraile; 
May  profit  light,  and  tardy  sale, 
Still  damp  the  trade  of  Doneraile. 

May  Fame  resound  a  dismal  tale, 
Whene'er  she  lights  on  Doneraile; 
May  Egypt's  plagues  at  once  prevail, 
To  thin  the  knaves  of  Doneraile. 

May  frost  and  snow,  and  sleet  and  hail, 
Benumb  each  joint  in  Doneraile; 

[133] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

May  wolves  and  bloodhounds  trace  and  trail 
The  cursed  crew  of  Doneraile. 

May  Oscar,  with  his  fiery  flail, 
To  atoms  thresh  all  Doneraile; 
May  every  mischief,  fresh  and  stale, 
Abide  henceforth  in  Doneraile. 

May  all,  from  Belfast  to  Kinsale, 
Scoff,  curse,  and  damn  you,  Doneraile; 
May  neither  flour  nor  oatenmeal 
Be  found  or  known  in  Doneraile. 

May  want  and  woe  each  joy  curtail 
That  e'er  was  known  in  Doneraile; 
May  no  one  coffin  want  a  nail 
That  wraps  a  rogue  in  Doneraile. 

May  all  the  thieves  that  rob  and  steal 
The  gallows  meet  in  Doneraile; 
May  all  the  sons  of  Granaweal 
Blush  at  the  thieves  of  Doneraile. 

May  mischief,  big  as  Norway  whale, 
O'erwhelm  the  knaves  of  Doneraile; 
May  curses,  wholesale  and  retail, 
Pour  with  full  force  on  Doneraile. 

May  every  transport  wont  to  sail, 
A  convict  bring  from  Doneraile; 
May  every  churn  and  milking-pail 
Fall  dry  to  staves  in  Doneraile. 

[134] 


M  on  or  hy  m  e  s 


May  cold  and  hunger  still  congeal 
The  stagnant  blood  of  Doneraile; 
May  every  hour  new  woes  reveal 
That  hell  reserves  for  Doneraile. 

May  every  chosen  ill  prevail 
O'er  all  the  imps  of  Doneraile; 
May  no  one  wish  or  prayer  avail 
To  soothe  the  woes  of  Doneraile. 

May  the  Inquisition  straight  impale 
The  rapparees  of  Doneraile; 
May  Charon's  boat  triumphant  sail, 
Completely  manned,  from  Doneraile. 

Oh,  may  my  couplets  never  fail 
To  find  a  curse  for  Doneraile; 
And  may  grim  Pluto's  inner  jail 
For  ever  groan  with  Doneraile. 

Patrick  O'Ktlly. 


A 


MY  MANX  MINX 

LL  the  Bard's  rhymes,  and  all  his  inks, 
Will  scarce  pourtray  the  Proteus — MINX: 


Nor  artist  brush  with  brightest  tincts 
Of  Fancy's  rainbow  picture  MINX. 

The  child  of  Man  and  beast:  a  sphinx 
Of  noble  rearing:  that  is  MINX. 

[135] 


A    W him s ey    A nt h  olo gy 

With  paw  of  leopard,  eye  of  lynx, 
And  spring  of  tiger,  such  is  MINX. 

She's  playful,  harmless:  Mousie  thinks: 
But  dreadful  earnest's  artful  MINX. 

Seems  nonchalante,  and  bobs,  and  blinks: 
Ma  foi,  toute  autre  chose  is  MINX. 

Formitat  Homer  oft:  her  winks 

Are  rare:  no  "nid-nid-niddin" — MINX. 

Aye  "takkin  notes"  of  holes  and  chinks: 
A  slee  and  pawky  body's  MINX. 

An  Abbess  of  Misrule:  she  slinks 
From  no  malfeasance:  wilful  MINX. 

(Law:) — Ne  quid  nim,  of  neighbour's  trinks: 
She's  always  nimming:  roguish  MINX. 

With  reels  of  silk,  thread,  wool,  plays  rinks: 
Tossing  and  tangling:  tricksy  MINX. 

Loves,  frisks,  curvets,  and  highest  jinks: 
Frolic's  own  daughter,  merry  MINX. 

As  high-born  dame  in  idlesse  sinks, 
So  idleth  fa-niente  MINX. 

A  pert,  coquettish,  flirting  finks: 
Has  fifty  beaux  at  once:  vain  MINX. 

[136] 


Monorhymes 


Simplex  munditiis,  all  sminks 

And  smears  of  sluthood  shun  spruce  MINX. 

Soprani  trill  their  tink-a-tinks: 
My  prima-cat-atrice's  MINX. 

Horns  blare,  drums  beat,  and  cymbal  clinks: 
No  mewsic  equals  mews  of  MINX. 

His  richest  creams,  nectareous  drinks, 
Her  master  sets  aside  for  MINX. 

From  human  cares  and  snares  he  shrinks, 
To  spend  serener  hours  with  MINX. 

The  Dean's  rare  taste  in  his  precincts 
Pets  wild  ducks:  I  pet  wilder  MINX. 

Of  the  Cat  world  the  pink  of  pinks 
Is  tailless,  peerless,  schonste  MINX. 

9Es  aii  twinned,  the  Bard  enlinks 
The  names  for  ever:  OTHO,  MINX. 

Orlando  Thomas  Dobbin. 


FIVE  WINES 

BRISK  methinks  I  am,  and  fine 
When  I  drink  my  cap'ring  wine; 
Then  to  love  I  do  incline, 
When  I  drink  my  wanton  wine; 

[137] 


A    W  him  s  ey    Ant  hoi  o  gy 

And  I  wish  all  maidens  mine, 
When  I  drink  my  sprightly  wine; 
Well  I  sup  and  well  I  dine, 
When  I  drink  my  frolic  wine; 
But  I  languish,  lower,  and  pine, 
When  I  want  my  fragrant  wine. 

Robert  Herrick 


LINES  ON  ROSE* 

(Written  by  One  Who  Was  Restricted  as  to 
Terminals) 


"A 


I.     ON  HER  DOMESTICITY 

S  pants  the  heart  that  is  the  roe's/' 

So  sings  sweet  Rosalie  a  lied; 
Or  in  her  pretty  garden  hoes, 
Or  pipes  soft  music  on  a  reed. 


II.     ON  HER  VANITY 

She  trips  across  the  lawn,  fair  Rose, 
Eyes  follow  where  her  footsteps  lead, 

And  catch  a  glimpse  of  scarlet  hose, 

(She  knows  that  he  who  runs  may  read). 

*  By  permission  of  Harper  &  Brothers. 

[138] 


Af  o  nor  hy  m  e  s 


III.     ON  HER  ADAPTABILITY 

To  heaven's  heights,  the  fierce  flames  rose, 
Stone,  iron,  melted,  just  like  lead; 

Right  hard  they  worked  with  pump  and  hose, 
All  night  by  flames  her  book  she  read. 

IV.     ON  HER  FEMININITY 

She  planted  peas,  but  not  in  rows, 

Just  where  her  errant  fancy  led; 
I  laughed  at  her  with  loud  "ho,  ho's" 

Until  she  blushed  a  rosy  red. 

Charles  Battell  Loomis. 


[  139] 


INTERIOR   RHMYES 


BOWLED 

WHEN  I,  sir,  play  at  cricket,  sick  it  makes 
me  feel; 
For  I  the  wicket  kick  it  backward  with 

my  heel. 

Then,  oh!  such  rollers  bowlers  always  give  to  me, 
And  the  rounders,  grounders,  too,  rise  and  strike 

my  knee; 

When  I  in  anguish  languish,  try  to  force  a  smile, 
While  laughing  critics  round  me  sound  me  on  my 
style. 

Anonymous. 


A  NOCTURNAL   SKETCH 

EVEN  is  come;  and  from  the  dark  Park,  hark, 
The  signal  of  the  setting  sun — one  gun! 
And  six  is  sounding  from  the  chime,  prime 

time 

To  go  and  see  the  Drury-Lane  Dane  slain, — 
Or  hear  Othello's  jealous  doubt  spout  out, — 
Or  Macbeth  raving  at  that  shade-made  blade, 
[  I40] 


Interior    Rhymes 


Denying  to  his  frantic  clutch  much  touch; — 
Or  else  to  see  Ducrow  with  wide  stride  ride 
Four  horses  as  no  other  man  can  span; 
Or  in  the  small  Olympic  Pit,  sit  split 
Laughing  at  Liston,  while  you  quiz  his  phiz. 
Anon  Night  comes,  and  with  her  wings  brings  things 
Such  as,  with  his  poetic  tongue,  Young  sung; 
The  gas  up-blazes  with  its  bright  white  light, 
And  paralytic  watchmen  prowl,  howl,  growl, 
About  the  streets  and  take  up  Pall-Mail  Sal, 
Who,  hasting  to  her  nightly  jobs,  robs  fobs. 

Now  thieves  to  enter  for  your  cash,  smash,  crash> 
Past  drowsy  Charley,  in  a  deep  sleep,  creep, 
But  frightened  by  Policeman  B  3,  flee, 
And  while  they're  going,  whisper  low,  "No  go!" 
Now  puss,  while  folks  are  in  their  beds,  treads  leads. 
And  sleepers  waking,  grumble — "Drat  that  cat!" 
Who  in  the  gutter  caterwauls,  squalls,  mauls 
Some  feline  foe,  and  screams  in  shrill  ill-will. 

Now  Bulls  of  Bashan,  of  a  prize  size,  rise 
In  childish  dreams,  and  with  a  roar  gore  poor 
Georgy,  or  Charley,  or  Billy,  willy-nilly; — 
But  Nursemaid,  in  a  nightmare  rest,  chest-pressed, 
Dreameth  of  one  of  her  old  flames,  James  Games, 
And  that  she  hears — what  faith  is  man's! — Ann's 

banns 

And  his,  from  Reverend  Mr.  Rice,  twice,  thrice: 
White  ribbons  flourish,  and  a  stout  shout  out, 
That  upward  goes,  shows  Rose  knows  those  bows' 

Thomas  Hood. 

[141] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

THE   DOUBLE   KNOCK 

(Initial  Rhymes) 

RAT-TAT  it  went  upon  the  lion's  chin; 
"That  hat,  I  know  it!"  cried  the  joyful  girl; 
"Summer's  it  is,  I  know  him  by  his  knock; 
Comers  like  him  are  welcome  as  the  day! 
Lizzy!  go  down  and  open  the  street-door; 
Busy  I  am  to  any  one  but  him. 
Know  him  you  must — he  has  been  often  here; 
Show  him  upstairs,  and  tell  him  I'm  alone." 

Quickly  the  maid  went  tripping  down  the  stair; 
Thickly  the  heart  of  Rose  Matilda  beat; 
"Sure  he  has  brought  me  tickets  for  the  play — 
Drury — or  Covent  Garden — darling  man! 
Kemble  will  play — or  Kean,  who  makes  the  soul 
Tremble  in  Richard  or  the  frenzied  Moor — 
Farren,  the  stay  and  prop  of  many  a  farce 
Barren  beside — or  Liston,  Laughter's  Child — 
Kelly  the  natural,  to  witness  whom 
Jelly  is  nothing  to  the  public's  jam — 
Cooper,  the  sensible — and  Walter  Knowles 
Super,  in  William  Tell,  now  rightly  told. 
Better — perchance,  from  Andrews,  brings  a  box, 
Letter  of  boxes  for  the  Italian  stage — 
Brocard!     Donzelli!     Taglioni!     Paul! 
No  card, — thank  Heaven — engages  me  to-night! 
Feathers,  of  course — no  turban,  and  no  toque — 
Weather's  against  it,  but  I'll  go  in  curls. 

[142] 


Interior    Rhymes 


Dearly  I  dote  on  white — my  satin  dress, 
Merely  one  night — it  won't  be  much  the  worse — 
Cupid — the  new  ballet  I  long  to  see — 
Stupid!  why  don't  she  go  and  ope  the  door!" 

Glistened  her  eye  as  the  impatient  girl 
Listened,  low  bending  o'er  the  topmost  stair, 
Vainly,  alas!  she  listens  and  she  bends, 
Plainly  she  hears  this  question  and  reply: 
"Axes  your  pardon,  sir,  but  what  d'ye  want?" 
"Taxes,"  says  he,  "and  shall  not  call  again!" 

Thomas  Hood. 


THE  FUTURE  OF  THE  CLASSICS 

NO  longer,  O  scholars,  shall  Plautus 
Be  taught  us. 

No  more  shall  professors  be  partial 
To  Martial. 

No  ninny 
Will  stop  playing  "shinney" 

For  Pliny. 
Not  even  the  veriest  Mexican  Greaser 

Will  stop  to  read  Caesar. 
No  true  son  of  Erin  will  leave  his  potato 
To  list  to  the  love-lore  of  Ovid  or  Plato. 

Old  Homer, 

That  hapless  old  roamer, 
Will  ne'er  find  a  rest  'neath  collegiate  dome  or 
Anywhere  else.     As  to  Seneca, 

[143] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


Any  cur 

Safely  may  snub  him,  or  urge  ill 
Effects  from  the  reading  of  Virgil. 
Cornelius  Nepos 
Wont  keep  us 
Much  longer  from  pleasure's  light  errands — 

Nor  Terence. 

The  irreverent  now  may  all  scoff  in  ease 
At  the  shade  of  poor  old  Aristophanes. 
And  moderns  it  now  doth  behoove  in  all 
Ways  to  despise  poor  old  Juvenal; 
And  to  chivvy 

Livy. 

The  class-room  hereafter  will  miss  a  row 
Of  eager  young  students  of  Cicero. 
The  'longshoreman — yes,  and  the  dock-rat,  he's 
Down  upon  Socrates. 

And  what'll 

Induce  us  to  read  Aristotle? 
We  shall  fail  in 
Our  duty  to  Galen. 
No  tutor  henceforward  shall  rack  us 
To  construe  old  Horatius  Flaccus. 
We  have  but  a  wretched  opinion 

Of  Mr.  Justinian. 
In  our  classical  pabulum  mix  we've  no  wee  sop 

Of  jEsop. 
Our  balance  of  intellect  asks  for  no  ballast 

From  Sallust. 
With  feminine  scorn  no   fair  Vassar-bred  lass  at 

us 
Shall  smile  if  we  own  that  we  cannot  read  Tacitus. 


Interior    Rhymes 


No  admirer  shall  ever  now  wreathe  with  begonias 

The  bust  of  Suetonius. 
And  so,  if  you  follow  me, 
We'll  have  to  cut  Ptolemy. 
Besides,  it  would  just  be  considered  facetious 
To  look  at  Lucretius. 

And  you  can 

Not  go  in  Society  if  you  read  Lucan, 
And  we  cannot  have  any  fun 
Out  of  Xenophon. 

Anonymous. 


I 


JOCOSA  LYRA 

N  our  hearts  is  the  Great  One  of  Avon 

Engraven, 

And  we  climb  the  cold  summits  once  built  on 
By  Milton. 


But  at  times  not  the  air  that  is  rarest 

Is  fairest, 
And  we  long  in  the  valley  to  follow 

Apollo. 

Then  we  drop  from  the  heights  atmospheric 
To  Herrick, 

Or  we  pour  the  Greek  honey,  grown  blander, 
Of  Landor; 

Or  our  cosiest  nook  in  the  shade  is 

Where  Praed  is, 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Or  we  toss  the  light  bells  of  the  mocker 
With  Locker. 

Oh,  the  song  where  not  one  of  the  Graces 
Tight-laces, — 

Where  we  woo  the  sweet  Muses  not  starchly, 
But  archly, — 

Where  the  verse,  like  a  piper  a-Maying, 
Comes  playing, — 

And  the  rhyme  is  as  gay  as  a  dancer 
In  answer, — 

It  will  last  till  men  weary  of  pleasure 

In  measure! 
It  will  last  till  men  weary  of  laughter  .  .  . 

And  after! 

Austin  Dobson. 


A  TRIP  TO   PARIS 

WHEN  a  man  travels  he  mustn't  look  queer 
If  he  gets  a  few  rubs  that  he  doesn't  get 

here; 

And  if  he  to  Paris  from  Calais  will  stray, 
I  will  tell  him  some  things  he  will  meet  on  his  way. 
Dover  heights — men  like  mites — skiffery,  cliffery, 

Shakespeare. 

Can't  touch   prog  —  sick   as  a   dog — packet   'em, 
racket  'em,  makes  pier. 


Interior    Rhymes 


Calais    clerks  —  custom-house    sharks  —  lurchery, 

searchery,  fee!  fee! 

On  the  pave — cabriolet — clattery,  pattery,  oui!  oui! 
Abbeville — off  goes  a  wheel — hammery,  dammery, 

tut!  tut! 
Montreuil — look  like  a  fool — latery,  gatery,  shut! 

shut! 
Laughing,  quaffing,  snoozing,  boozing,  cantering, 

bantering,  gad  about,  mad  about — 

When  a  man  travels,  etc. 

Ding    dong — postboy's    thong — smackery,    crack- 

ery,  gar!  gar! 
Soups,  ragouts — messes  and  stews — hashery,  trash- 

ery,  psha!  psha! 
Beggar's   woes — donnes   quelque   chose — howlery, 

growlery,  sou!  sou! 
Crawl  like  a  calf — post  and  a  half — sluggery,  tug- 

gery,  pooh!  pooh! 
Saint-Denis  —  custom-house    fee — lacery,  tracery, 

non,  non! 
Silver-tip — ginger  on  lip — feeing  'em,  freeing  'em, 

»bon,  bon! 
Laughing,  quaffing,  etc. 

When  a  man  travels,  and  gets  by  good  luck 
To  Paris,  he  stares  like  a  pig  that  is  stuck; 
And,  if  he's  in  want  of  a  Guide  de  Paris, 
He'd  better  be  quiet  and  listen  to  me. 
Montague   Russe — down   like  a   sluice — whizzery, 

dizzery,  see-saw! 
Catacombs — ghosts   and   gnomes — bonery,   groan- 

ery,  fee  faw! 

[147] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Mille    Colonnes — queen    on    her    throne — flattery, 

chattery,  charmant! 
Who's    to    pay? — Beauvilliers — suttle    'em,    guttle 

'em,  gourmand! 
Saint-Cloud — fete  of  St.-Leu — bower  'em,  shower 

'em,  jet  d'eau. 
Bastille — water-work    wheel — Elephant,    elephant, 

wet  oh! 

Laughing,  quaffing,  etc. 

Sol  fa — Tanta-ra-ra!    Shriekery,  squeakery,  strum, 

strum, 
Louis  d'or — couldn't  get  more — packery,  backery, 

glum,  glum! 
Call  for  a  bill — worse  than  a  pill — largery,  charg- 

ery,  oh!  oh! 

Diligence — lessens    expense — waggon    'em,    drag- 
gin'  'em,  slow,  slow! 
Quillacq — glad   to   get    back — floodery,    scuddery, 

sick,  sick! 
Now  we  steer — right  for  the  pier — over  'em,  Dover 

'em,  quick,  quick! 
Laughing,  quaffing,  snoozing,  boozing,  cantering, 

bantering,  gad  about,  mad  about — 
When  a  man  travels  he  mustn't  look  queer 
If  he  gets  a  few  rubs  that  he  doesn't  get  here; 
And  if  he  from  Calais  to  Paris  would  stray, 
I've  told  him  the  things  he  will  meet  on  his  way. 

"James  Smith. 


[148] 


Interior    Rhymes 


A  FERRY  TALE* 

OCOME  and  cross  over  to  nowhere, 
And  go  where 

The  nobodies  live  on  their  nothing  a  day! 
A  tideful  of  tricks  in  this  merry 

Old  Ferry, 
And  these  are  things  that  it  does  by  the  way: 

It  pours  into  parks  and  disperses 

The  nurses; 

It  goes  into  gardens  and  scatters  the  cats; 
It  leaks  into  lodgings,  disorders 

The  borders, 
And  washes  away  with  their  holiday  hats. 

It  soaks  into  shops,  and  inspires 

The  buyers 

To  crawl  over  counters  and  climb  upon  chairs; 
It  trickles  on  tailors,  it  spatters 

On  hatters, 
And  makes  little  milliners  scamper  up-stairs. 

It  goes  out  of  town  and  it  rambles 

Through  brambles; 

It  wallows  in  hollows  and  dives  into  dells; 
It  flows  into  farmyards  and  sickens 

The  chickens, 
And  washes  the  wheelbarrows  into  the  wells. 

*  By  permission  of  the  Century  Company. 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

It  turns  into  taverns  and  drenches 

The  benches; 

It  jumps  into  pumps  and  comes  out  with  a  roar; 
It  sounds  like  a  postman  at  lodges — 

Then  dodges 
And  runs  up  the  lane  when  they  open  the  door. 

It  leaks  into  laundries  and  wrangles 

With  mangles; 

It  trips  over  turnips  and  tumbles  down-hill; 
It  rolls  like  a  coach  along  highways 

And  byways, 
But  never  gets  anywhere,  go  as  it  will! 

Oh,  foolish  old  Ferry!  all  muddles 

And  puddles — 

Go  fribble  and  dribble  along  on  your  way; 
We  drink  to  your  health  with  molasses 

In  glasses, 
And  waft  you  farewell  with  a  handful  of  hay! 

Charles  E.  CarryL 


SONG   FOR  A  CRACKED  VOICE 

WHEN  I  was  young  and  slender,  a  spender, 
a  lender, 
What  gentleman  adventurer  was  prankier 

than  I, 

Who  lustier  at  passes  with  glasses — and  lasses, 
How  pleasant  was  the  look  of  'em   as  I  came 
jaunting  by! 


Interior    Rhymes 


(But  now  there's  none  to  sigh  at  me  as  I  come 
creaking  by.) 

Then  Pegasus  went  loping  'twixt  hoping  and  toping, 

A  song  in  every  dicky-bird,  a  scent  in  every  rose; 

What  moons  for  lovelorn  glances,  romances,  and 

dances, 
And  how  the  spirit  of  the  waltz  went  thrilling  to 

my  toes! 

(Egad,  it's  now  a  gouty  pang  goes  thrilling  to  my 
toes!) 

Was  I  that  lover  frantic,  romantic,  and  antic 
Who  found  the  lute  in  Molly's  voice,  the  heaven  in 

her  eyes, 
Who,  madder  than  a  hatter,  talked  patter?     No 

matter. 
Call  not  that  little,  youthful  ghost,  but  leave  it 

where  it  lies! 

(Dear,  dear,  how  many  winter  snows  have  drifted 
where  she  lies!) 

But  now  I'm  old  and  humble,  why  mumble  and 

grumble 
At  all  the  posy-linked  rout  that  hurries  laughing 

by? 
Framed  in  my  gold-rimmed  glasses  each  lass  is  who 

passes, 
And  Youth  is  still  a-twinkling  in  the  corner  of 

my  eye. 

(How  strange  you  cannot  see  it  in  the  corner  of 
my  eye!) 

Wallace  Irwin. 

[151] 


BLANK   VERSE    IN    PROSE* 


DEATH  OF  LITTLE  NELL 

AND  now  the  bell— the  bell 
She  had  so  often  heard  by  night  and  day 
And  listened  to  with  solemn   pleasure, 

E'en  as  a  living  voice — 
Rang  its  remorseless  toll  for  her, 
So  young,  so  beautiful,  so  good. 

Decrepit  age,  and  vigorous  life, 
And  blooming  youth,  and  helpless  infancy, 
Poured  forth — on  crutches,  in  the  pride  of  strength 

And  health,  in  the  full  blush 
Of  promise — the  mere  dawn  of  life — 
To  gather  round  her  tomb.     Old  men  were  there 

Whose  eyes  were  dim 

And  senses  failing — 

Granddames,  who  might  have  died  ten  years  ago, 
And  still  been  old — the  deaf,  the  blind,  the  lame, 

The  palsied, 

The  living  dead  in  many  shapes  and  forms, 
To  see  the  closing  of  this  early  grave! 

What  was  the  death  it  would  shut  in, 
To  that  which  still  would  crawl  and  creep  above  it! 

*  These  specimens  of  rhythmical  prose  are   copied    verbatim   from 
the  books  in  which  they  appear. 

[152] 


Blank    Verse   in   Prose 

Along  the  crowded  path  they  bore  her  now; 

Pure  as  the  new  fallen  snow 
That  covered  it;  whose  day  on  earth 

Had  been  as  fleeting. 

Under  that  porch  where  she  had  sat  when  Heaven 
In  mercy  brought  her  to  that  peaceful  spot, 

She  passed  again,  and  the  old  church 

Received  her  in  its  quiet  shade. 

Oh!  it  is  hard  to  take 
The  lesson  that  such  deaths  will  teach, 

But  let  no  man  reject  ir, 
For  it  is  one  that  all  must  learn 
And  is  a  mighty  universal  Truth. 
When  Death  strikes  down  the  innocent  and  young, 
From  every  fragile  form  from  which  he  lets 
The  panting  spirit  free, 
A  hundred  virtues  rise, 
In  shapes  of  mercy,  charity,  and  love, 
To  walk  the  world  and  bless  it. 

Of  every  tear 

That  sorrowing  mortals  shed  on  such  green  graves, 
Some  good  is  born,  some  gentler  nature  comes. 

Charles  Dickens 
(in  "Old  Curiosity  Shop"). 


[153] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


SONG  OF  THE   KETTLE 

IT'S    a    dark    night,   sang    the    kettle,   and    the 
rotten  leaves  are  lying  by  the  way; 
And  above,  all    is    mist    and    darkness,  and 

below,  all  is  mire  and  clay; 
And  there  is  only  one  relief  in  all  the  sad  and  murky 

air, 
And  I  don't  know  that  it  is  one,  for  it's  nothing  but 

a  glare 
Of  deep  and  angry  crimson,  where  the  sun  and 

wind  together 
Set  a   brand   upon  the  clouds  for  being  guilty  of 

such  weather; 
And  the  widest  open  country  is  a  long  dull  streak 

of  black; 
And  there's  hoarfrost  on  the  finger-post,  and  thaw 

upon  the  track; 

And  the  ice  it  isn't  water,  and  the  water  isn't  free 
And  you  couldn't  say  that  anything  was  what 

ought  to  be; 
But  he's  coming,  coming,  coming! — 

Charles  Dickens 
(in  "  The  Cricket  on  the  Hearth  ") 


[154] 


FIXED   FORMS 


I 


VILLANELLE 

T'S  all  a  trick,  quite  easy  when  you  know  it 

As  easy  as  reciting  A,  B,  C. 
You  need  not  be  an  atom  of  a  poet. 

If  you've  a  grain  of  wit  and  want  to  show  it, 
Writing  a  Villanelle — take  this  from  me — 
It's  all  a  trick,  quite  easy  when  you  know  it. 

You  start  a  pair  of  "rimes"  and  then  you  "go  it," 

With  rapid  running  pen  and  fancy  free, 
You  need  not  be  an  atom  of  a  poet. 

Take  any  thought,  write  round  it  or  below  it, 

Above  or  near  it,  as  it  liketh  thee; 
It's  all  a  trick,  quite  easy  when  you  know  it. 

Pursue  your  task,  till,  like  a  shrub,  you  grow  it, 

Up  to  the  standard  size  it  ought  to  be; 
You  need  not  be  an  atom  of  a  poet. 

Clear  it  of  weeds,  and  water  it,  and  hoe  it, 

Then  watch  it  blossom  with  triumphant  glee, 
It's  all  a  trick,  quite  easy  when  you  know  it. 
You  need  not  be  an  atom  of  a  poet. 

Walter  W.  Sleat. 

[155] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


THE  RONDEAU 

YOU  bid  me  try,  Blue-eyes,  to  write 
A  Rondeau.     What!  forthwith? — to-night? 

Reflect?     Some  skill  I  have,  'tis  true; 
But  thirteen  lines! — and  rhymed  on  two! — 
"Refrain,"  as  well.     Ah,  hapless  plight! 
Still  there  are  five  lines — ranged  aright. 
These  Gallic  bonds,  I  feared,  would  fright 
My  easy  Muse.     They  did,  till  you — 
You  bid  me  try! 

That  makes  them  eight. — The  port's  in  sight; 
'Tis  all  because  your  eyes  are  bright! 
Now  just  a  pair  to  end  in  "oo," — 
When  maids  command,  what  can't  we  do? 
Behold!     The  Rondeau — tasteful,  light— 

You  bid  me  try! 

Austin  Dobson. 


THE   ROUNDEL 

\    ROUNDEL  is  wrought  as  a  ring  or  a  star-; 

bright  sphere. 
With  craft  of  delight  and  with  cunning  of 

sound  unsought, 

That  the  heart  of  the  hearer  may  smile  if 
to  pleasure  his  ear 
A  roundel  is  wrought. 

[  156] 


Fixed   Forms 


Its  jewel  of  music  is  carven  of  all  or  of  aught — 
Love,  laughter,  or  mourning — remembrance  of  rap- 
ture or  fear — 
That   fancy   may  fashion   to   hang  in  the  ear  of 
thought. 

As  a  bird's  quick  song  runs  round,  and  the  hearts 

in  us  hear 
Pause  answer  to  pause,  and  again  the  same  strain 

caught, 

So  moves  the  device  whence,  round  as  a  pearl  or 
tear, 

A  roundel  is  wrought. 

A.  C.  Swinburne. 


VILLANELLE  OF  THINGS  AMUSING 


are  the  things  that  make  me  laugh — 
Life's  a  preposterous  farce,  say  I! 
And  I've  missed  of  too  many  jokes  by  half. 

The  high-heeled  antics  of  colt  and  calf, 

The  men  who  think  they  can  act,  and  try — 
These  are  the  things  that  make  me  laugh. 

The  hard-boiled  poses  in  photograph, 

The  groom  still  wearing  his  wedding  tie — 
And  I've  missed  of  too  many  jokes  by  half! 

These  are  the  bubbles  I  gayly  quaff 

With  the  rank  conceit  of  the  new-born  fly — 
These  are  the  things  that  make  me  laugh! 

[157] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

For,  Heaven  help  me!  I  needs  must  chaff, 

And  people  will  tickle  me  till  I  die — 
And  I've  missed  of  too  many  jokes,  by  half! 

So  write  me  down  in  my  epitaph 
As  one  too  fond  of  his  health  to  cry — 
These  are  the  things  that  make  me  laugh, 
And  I've  missed  of  too  many  jokes  by  half! 

Gelett  Burgess 


TEMA  CON  VARIAZIONI* 

NEVER  loved  a  dear  gazelle — 

Nor  anything  that  cost  me  much: 

High  prices  profit  those  who  sell, 
But  why  should  I  be  fond  of  such  ? 


To  glad  me  with  bis  soft  black  eye 

My  son  comes  trotting  home  from  school: 

He's  had  a  fight,  but  can't  tell  why- 
He  always  was  a  little  fool ! 

But,  when  be  came  to  know  me  well, 
He  kicked  me  out,  her  testy  Sire; 

And  when  I  stained  my  hair,  that  Belle 
Might  note  the  change,  and  thus  admire 

*  By  permission  of  the  Macmillan  Company. 

[158] 


Fixed  Forms 


And  love  me,  it  was  sure  to  dye 

A  muddy  green  or  staring  blue: 
While  one  might  trace,  with  half  an  eye, 

The  still-triumphant  carrot  through. 

Lewis  Carroll. 


THE  TRIOLET 

EASY  is  the  triolet, 
If  you  really  learn  to  make  it! 
Once  a  neat  refrain  you  get, 
Easy  is  the  triolet. 
As  you  see! — I  pay  my  debt 

With  another  rhyme.     Deuce  take  it, 
Easy  is  the  triolet, 

If  you  really  learn  to  make  it! 

W.  E.  Henley. 


TRIOLET 

I  LOVE  you,  my  lord!" 
Was  all  that  she  said— 
What  a  dissonant  chord, 
"I  love  you,  my  lord!" 
Ah!  how  I  abhorred 

That  sarcastic  maid! — 

"/  love  you?     My  Lord!" 

Was  all  that  she  said. 

Paul  T.  Gilbert. 

[159] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

A  PITCHER  OF  MIGNONETTE 

(Triolet) 

A  PITCHER  of  mignonette, 
In  a  tenement's  highest  casement: 
Queer  sort  of  flower-pot — yet 
That  pitcher  of  mignonette 
Is  a  garden  in  heaven  set, 

To  the  little  sick  child  in  the  basement — 
The  pitcher  of  mignonette, 

In  the  tenement's  highest  casement. 

H.  C.  Bunner 

THE   TRIOLET 

I  INTENDED  an  Ode, 
And  it  turned  into  Triolets. 
It  began  a  la  mode: 
I  intended  an  Ode, 
But  Rose  crossed  the  road 

With  a  bunch  of  fresh  violets. 
I  intended  an  Ode, 

And  it  turned  into  Triolets. 

I  intended  an  Ode, 

And  it  turned  out  a  Sonnet, 
It  began  a  la  mode, 
I  intended  an  Ode; 
[160] 


Fixed  Forms 


But  Rose  crossed  the  road 

In  her  latest  new  bonnet. 
I  intended  an  Ode, 

And  it  turned  out  a  Sonnet. 

Austin  Dobson. 


BALLADE 

I  OFTEN  does  a  quiet  read 
At  Booty  Shelly 's  poetry; 
I  think  that  Swinburne  at  a  screed 

Is  really  almost  too-too  fly; 
At  Signor  Vagna's  harmony 

I  likes  a  merry  little  flutter; 
I've  had  at  Pater  many  a  shy; 

In  fact  my  form's  the  Bloomin'  Utter. 

My  mark's  a  tiny  little  feed, 

And  Enery  Irving's  gallery, 
To  see  old  'Amlick  do  a  bleed, 

And  Ellen  Terry  on  the  die, 

Or  Franky's  ghostes  at  hi-spy, 
And  parties  carried  on  a  shutter. 

Them  vulgar  Coupeaus  is  my  eye! 
In  fact  my  form's  the  Bloomin'  Utter. 

The  Grosvenor's  nuts — it  is,  indeed! 

I  goes  for  'Olman  'Unt  like  pie. 
It's  equal  to  a  friendly  lead 

To  see  B.  Jones's  judes  go  by. 

[161] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


Stanhope  he  makes  me  fit  to  cry, 
Whistler  he  makes  me  melt  like  butter, 

Strudwick  he  makes  me  flash  my  cly, 
In  fact  my  form's  the  Bloomin'  Utter. 

Envoy. 

I'm  on  for  any  Art  that's  'Igh; 
I  talks  as  quite  as  I  can  splutter; 

I  keeps  a  Dado  on  the  sly; 
In  fact  my  form's  the  Bloomin'  Utter! 

W.  E.  Henley. 


VILLANELLE 


N 


OW  ain't  they  utterly  too-too 

(She  ses,  my  Missus  mine,  ses  she) 
Them  flymy  little  bits  of  Blue. 


Joe,  just  you  kool  'em — nice  and  skew 

Upon  our  old  meogginee, 
Now  ain't  they  utterly  too-too? 

They're  better  than  a  pot'n'  a  screw, 

They're  equal  to  a  Sunday  spree, 
Them  flymy  little  bits  of  Blue! 

Suppose  I  put  'em  up  the  flue, 

And  booze  the  profits,  Joe?     Not  me. 
Now  ain't  they  utterly  too-too  ? 

[162] 


Fixed  Forms 


I  do  the  'Igh  Art  fake,  I  do. 

Joe,  I'm  consummate;  and  I  see 
Them  flymy  little  bits  of  Blue. 

Which,  Joe,  is  why  I  ses  to  you— 

^Esthetic-like,  and  limp,  and  free — 
Now  aint  they  utterly  too-too, 
Them  flymy  little  bits  of  Blue  ? 

W.  E.  Henley. 

A  RONDELAY 

MAN  is  for  woman  made, 
And  woman  made  for  man: 
As  the  spur  is  for  the  jade, 
As  the  scabbard  for  the  blade, 

As  for  liquor  is  the  can, 
So  man's  for  woman  made, 
And  woman  made  for  man. 

As  the  sceptre  to  be  sway'd, 
As  to  night  the  serenade, 

As  for  pudding  is  the  pan, 

As  to  cool  us  is  the  fan, 
So  man's  for  woman  made, 

And  woman  made  for  man. 

Be  she  widow,  wife,  or  maid, 
Be  she  wanton,  be  she  staid, 
Be  she  well  or  ill  array'd, 
So  man's  for  woman  made, 
And  woman  made  for  man. 

Peter  A.  Motteux. 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


SONNET  TO  ORDER 

A  SONNET  would  you  have  ?    Know  you,  myi 
pet, 

For  sonnets  fourteen  lines  are  necessary. 
Ah,  necessary  rhymes,  by  luck  to  fairy — 
I'll  call  you  one,  and  the  first  quatrain  get. 
This  meets  half-way  the  second;  half-way  met. 
One  meets  an  obstacle  in  a  manner  airy. 
But  here,  though  it  is  not  your  name,  as  Mary 
Til  set  you  down,  settling  the  second  set. 

Now,  you'll  admit,  a  sonnet  without  love, 
Without  the  savour  of  a  woman  in't, 

Were  profanation  of  poetic  art. 
Love,  above  all  things!     So  'tis  writ  above. 
Nor  there  alone.     Your  sonneteer,  I'd  hint, 
Gives  you  this  sonnet  here  with  all  his  heart. 
Henry  Cuyler  Bunner. 


SONNET  ON  THE   SONNET 

T  write  a  sonnet  doth  my  Julia  press  me; 
I've  never  found  me  in  such  stress  or  pain; 
A  sonnet  numbers  fourteen  lines,  'tis  plain, 
And  three  are  gone  ere  I  can  say,  God  bless  me! 

I  thought  that  spinning  lines  would  sore  oppress  me, 
Yet  here  I'm  midway  in  the  last  quatrain: 
And  if  the  foremost  tercet  I  begin, 

The  quatrains  need  not  any  more  distress  me. 


Fixed   Forms 


"o  the  first  tercet  I  have  got  at  last, 

And  travel  through  it  with  such  right  good  will, 
"hat  with  this  line  I've  finished  it,  I  ween: 

*m  in  the  second  now,  and  see  how  fast 

The  thirteenth  line  comes  tripping  from  my  quill: 
-lurrah!  'tis  done!     Count  if  there  be  fourteen. 

James  T.  Gibson. 


SONNET  TO  A  CLAM 

(Dum  tacent  claimant) 

TNGLORIOUS  friend!  most  confident  I  am 
(       Thy  life  is  one  of  very  little  ease; 

Albeit  men  mock  thee  with  their  similes 
\iul  prate  of  being  "happy  as  a  clam!" 
vVhat  though  thy  shell  protects  thy  fragile  head 

From  the  sharp  bailiffs  of  the  briny  sea  ? 

Thy  valves  are,  sure,  no  safety-valves  to  thee, 
While  rakes  are  free  to  desecrate  thy  bed, 
\nd  bear  thee  off" — as  foemen  take  their  spoil — 

Far  from  thy  friends  and  family  to  roam; 

Forced,  like  a  Hessian,  from  thy  native  home, 
To  meet  destruction  in  a  foreign  broil! 

Though  thou  art  tender  yet  thy  humble  bard 

Declares,  O  clam!  thy  case  is  shocking  hard! 

John  G.  Saxe. 


[165] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


RONDEAU 

JENNY  kissed  me  when  we  met, 
Jumping  from  the  chair  she  sat  in; 
Time,  you  thief,  who  love  to  get 
Sweets  into  your  list,  put  that  in; 
Say  I'm  weary,  say  I'm  sad, 

Say  that  health  and  wealth  have  missed  me, 
Say  I'm  growing  old,  but  add, 
Jenny  kissed  me! 

Leigh  Hunt. 


REMEMBER 

REMEMBER  it,  although  you're  far  away— 
Too  far  away  more  fivers  yet  to  land, 
When   you   no    more  can   proffer  notes  of 

hand, 

Nor  I  half  yearn  to  change  my  yea  to  nay. 
Remember,  when  no  more  in  airy  way, 
You  tell  me  of  repayment  sagely  planned: 
Only  remember  it,  you  understand! 
It's  rather  late  to  counsel  you  to  pay; 
Yet  if  you  should  remember  for  a  while, 
And  then  forget  it  wholly,  I  should  grieve; 
For,  though  your  light  procrastinations  leave 
Small  remnants  of  the  hope  that  once  I  had, 
Than  that  you  should  forget  your  debt  and  smile, 
I'd  rather  you'd  remember  and  be  sad. 

Judy. 
[166] 


Fixed  Forms 


THE  WAIL  OF  THE  "PERSONALLY 
CONDUCTED" 

(Chorus  beard  on  the  deck  of  a  Saguenay  steamboat) 
SAPPHICS 

TNTEGRAL  were  we,  in  our  old  existence; 
Separate  beings,  individually: 
Now  are  our  entities  blended,  fused,  and  foun- 
dered— 

We  are  one  person. 

We  are  not  mortals,  we  are  not  celestials, 
We  are  not  birds,  the  upper  ether  cleaving, 
We  are  a  retrogression  toward  the  monad: 
We  are  Cook's  Tourists. 

All  ways  we  follow  him  who  holds  the  guide-book 
All  things  we  look  at,  with  bedazzled  optics; 
Sad  are  our  hearts,  because  the  vulgar  rabble 
Call  us  the  Cookies. 

Happy  the  man  who,  by  his  cheerful  fireside, 
Says  to  the  partner  of  his  joys  and  sorrows: 
'Anna  Maria,  let  us  go  to-morrow 
Out  for  an  airing." 

Him  to  Manhattan,  or  the  Beach  of  Brighton, 
Gayly  he  hieth,  or  if,  fate-accursed, 
Lives  he  in  Boston,  still  he  may  betake  him 
Down  to  Nantasket. 

[167] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Happy  the  mortal  free  and  independent, 
Master  of  the  mainspring  of  his  own  volition! 
Look  on  us  with  the  eye  of  sweet  compassion: 
We  are  Cook's  Tourists. 

H.  C.  Bunner. 


l-i/V"  "*J   (X*vu 


r 


[168] 


CHAIN    VERSE 


OUT  OF  SIGHT,  OUT  OF  MIND 

r  I  AHE  oft'ner  seen,  the  more  I  lust, 

The  more  I  lust,  the  more  I  smart, 
The  more  I  smart,  the  more  I  trust, 
The  more  I  trust,  the  heavier  heart, 

The  heavy  heart  breeds  mine  unrest, 

Thy  absence  therefore  I  like  best. 

The  rarer  seen,  the  less  in  mind, 
The  less  in  mind,  the  lesser  pain, 
The  lesser  pain,  less  grief  I  find, 
The  lesser  grief,  the  greater  gain, 
The  greater  gain,  the  merrier  I, 
Therefore  I  wish  thy  sight  to  fly. 

The  further  off,  the  more  I  joy, 
The  more  I  joy,  the  happier  life, 
The  happier  life,  less  hurts  annoy, 
The  lesser  hurts,  pleasure  most  rife, 
Such  pleasures  rife  shall  I  obtain 
When  distance  doth  depart  us  twain. 

Barnaby  Googe. 

[169] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


AD  MORTEM 

r  I  AHE  longer  life,  the  more  oflFence; 

The  more  offence,  the  greater  pain; 

The  greater  pain  the  less  defence; 

The  less  defence,  the  greater  gain — 

Wherefore,  come  death,  and  let  me  die! 

The  shorter  life,  less  care  I  find, 
Less  care  I  take,  the  sooner  over; 
The  sooner  o'er,  the  merrier  mind; 
The  merrier  mind,  the  better  lover — 

Wherefore,  come  death,  and  let  me  die! 

Come,  gentle  death,  the  ebb  of  care; 
The  ebb  of  care,  the  flood  of  life; 
The  flood  of  life,  I'm  sooner  there; 
I'm  sooner  there — the  end  of  strife — 
The  end  of  strife,  that  thing  wish  I — 

Wherefore,  come  death,  and  let  me  die! 

Anonymous. 

NERVE   THY   SOUL 

NERVE  thy  soul  with  doctrines  noble, 
Noble  in  the  walks  of  time, 
Time  that  leads  to  an  eternal, 

An  eternal  life  sublime: 
Life  sublime  in  moral  beauty, 
Beauty  that  shall  ever  be; 


Chain    Verse 


Ever  be  to  lure  thee  onward, 
Onward  to  the  fountain  free: 

Free  to  every  earnest  seeker, 
Seeker  for  the  fount  of  youth, 

Youth  exultant  in  its  beauty, 
Beauty  of  the  living  truth. 

Anonymous. 


[171] 


CENTONES   OR   MOSAIC 
WHIMSEYS 


LIFE* 

1.  Why  all  this  toil  for  triumphs  of  an  hour? 

2.  Life's  a  short  summer,  man  a  flower. 

3.  By  turns  we  catch  the  vital  breath  and  die — 

4.  The  cradle  and  the  tomb,  alas!  so  nigh. 

5.  To  be,  is  better  far  than  not  to  be. 

6.  Though  all  man's  life  may  seem  a  tragedy; 

7.  But  light  cares  speak  when  mighty  griefs  are 

dumb, 

8.  The  bottom  is  but  shallow  whence  they  come. 

9.  Your  fate  is  but  the  common  lot  of  all: 

10.  Unmingled  joys  here  to  no  man  befall, 

11.  Nature  to  each  allots  his  proper  sphere; 

12.  Fortune  makes  folly  her  peculiar  care; 

13.  Custom  does  often  reason  overrule, 

14.  And  throw  a  cruel  sunshine  on  a  fool. 

*  I.  Young;  2.  Dr.  Johnson  ;  3.  Pope;  4.  Prior;  5.  Sewell  ; 
6.  Spenser;  7.  Daniell ;  8.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh;  9.  Longfellow; 
IO.  Southwell;  n.  Congreve  ;  12.  Churchill;  13.  Rochester;  14. 
Armstrong;  15.  Milton;  16.  Bailey;  17.  Trench;  18.  Somer- 
ville  ;  19.  Thomson;  20.  Byron;  21.  Smollett;  22.  Crabbe  ;  23. 
Massinger  ;  24.  Cowley  ;  25.  Beattie  ;  26.  Cowper  ;  27.  Sir  Wal- 
ter Davenant ;  28.  Gray;  29.  Willis;  30.  Addison ;  31.  Dryden  ; 
32.  Francis  Quarles  ;  33.  Watkins ;  34.  Herrick ;  35.  William 
Mason;  36.  Hill;  37.  Dana;  38.  Shakespeare. 

[  172] 


C en  tones 

15.  Live  well;  how  long  or  short,  permit  to  Heaven; 

1 6.  They  who  forgive  us  most,  shall  be  most  for- 

given. 

17.  Sin  may  be  clasped  so  close  we  cannot  see  its 

face — 

1 8.  Vile  intercourse  where  virtue  has  no  place. 

19.  Then  keep  each  passion  down,  however  dear; 

20.  Thou  pendulum  betwixt  a  smile  and  tear. 

21.  Her  sensual  snares,  let  faithless  pleasure  lay, 

22.  With  craft  and  skill,  to  ruin  and  betray; 

23.  Soar  not  too  high  to  fall,  but  stoop  to  rise. 

24.  We  masters  grow  of  all  that  we  despise. 

25.  Oh,  then,  I  renounce  that  impious  self-esteem; 

26.  Riches  have  wings,  and  grandeur  is  a  dream. 

27.  Think  not  ambition  wise  because  'tis  brave, 

28.  The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave. 

29.  What  is  ambition? — 'tis  a  glorious  cheat! — 

30.  Only  destructive  to  the  brave  and  great. 

31.  What's  all  the  gaudy  glitter  of  a  crown  ? 

32.  The  way  to  bliss  lies  not  on  beds  of  down. 

33.  How  long  we  live,  not  years  but  actions  tell; 

34.  That  man  lives  twice  who  lives  the  first  life  well. 

35.  Make,  then,  while  yet  we  may,  your  God  your 

friend, 

36.  Whom  Christians  worship  yet  not  comprehend. 

37.  The  trust  that's  given  guard,  and  to  yourself 

be  just; 

38.  For,  live  we  how  we  can,  yet  die  we  must. 

Anonymous. 


[173] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


MY  GENEVIEVE* 

1.  I  only  knew  she  came  and  went, 

2.  Like  troutlets  in  a  pool; 

3.  She  was  a  phantom  of  delight, 

4.  And  I  was  like  a  fool. 

5.  "One  kiss,  dear  maid,"  I  said,  and  sighed, 

6.  Out  of  those  lips  unshorn. 

7.  She  shook  her  ringlets  round  her  head 

8.  And  laughed  in  merry  scorn. 

9.  Ring  out,  wild  bells,  to  the  wild  sky, 

10.  You  heard  them,  O  my  heart; 

11.  'Tis  twelve  at  night  by  the  castle  clock, 

12.  Beloved  we  must  part. 

13.  "Come  back,  come  back!"  she  cried  in  grief, 

14.  My  eyes  are  dim  with  tears — 

15.  How  shall  I  live  through  all  the  days? 

1 6.  All  through  a  hundred  years? 

17.  'Twas  in  the  prime  of  summer-time, 

1 8.  She  blessed  me  with  her  hand; 

*  i.  Powell;  2.  Hood;  3.  Wordsworth;  4.  Eastman;  5.  Cole- 
ridge; 6.  Longfellow;  7.  Stoddard  ;  8.  Tennyson;  9.  Tennyson; 
10.  Alice  Gary;  n.  Coleridge;  12.  Alice  Gary;  13.  Campbell; 
14.  Bayard  Taylor  ;  15.  Osgood ;  16.  T.  S.  Perry;  17.  Hood; 
1 8.  Hoyt ;  19.  Edwards;  20.  Cornwall;  21.  Patmore  ;  22.  Bayard 
Taylor;  23.  Tennyson;  24.  Read;  25.  Browning;  26.  Smith; 
27.  Coleridge;  28.  Wordsworth;  29.  Coleridge;  30.  Hervey  ;  31 
Wordsworth  ;  32.  Osgood. 

[i74] 


C  en  tones 

19.  We  strayed  together,  deeply  blest, 

20.  Into  the  dreaming  land. 

21.  The  laughing  bridal  roses  blow, 

22.  To  dress  her  dark  brown  hair; 

23.  My  heart  is  breaking  with  my  woe, 

24.  Most  beautiful!  most  rare! 

25.  I  clasped  it  on  her  sweet,  cold  hand, 

26.  The  precious  golden  link! 

27.  I  calmed  her  fears,  and  she  was  calm, 

28.  "Drink,  pretty  creature,  drink!" 

29.  And  so  I  won  my  Genevieve, 

30.  And  walked  in  Paradise; 

31.  The  fairest  thing  that  ever  grew 

22.       Atween  me  and  the  skies!  * 

A  nonymous. 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  GLORIOUS  DEVIL* 

GLORIOUS  devil,  large  in  heart  and  brain, 
Doomed  for  a  certain  term  to  walk  the 
night, 

The  world  forsaking  with  a  calm  disdain, 
Majestic  rises  on  th'  astonished  sight. 

..  Tennyson;  2.  Shakespeare;  3.  Thomson;  4.  Take;  5. 
Wordsworth  ;  6.  Pope  ;  7.  Graham  ;  8.  Cowper  ;  9.  Beattie  ; 
10.  Rogers;  n.  Hemans;  12.  Collins;  13.  Longfellow;  14.  Prior; 
15.  Beattie;  16.  Burns;  17.  Wordsworth;  18.  Hemans;  19; 
Crabbe ;  20.  Chaucer;  21.  Collins;  22.  Beattie;  23.  Gray;  24. 
Campbell;  25.  Bloomfield;  26.  Goldsmith;  27.  Rogers;  28.  Burns; 
29.  Bloomfield;  30.  Byron;  31.  Falconer;  32.  Thomson;  33. 
jjoanna  Baillie  ;  34.  Byron  ;  35.  Shelley;  36.  Euripides  ;  37.  Beattie; 
38.  Hemans;  39.  Shakespeare;  40.  H.  Smith. 

[i75] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Type  of  the  wise  who  soar,  but  never  roam, — 
Mark  how  it  mounts  to  man's  imperial  race! 

High  is  his  perch,  but  humble  is  his  home, 
Fast  anchored  in  the  deep  abyss  of  space. 

And  oft  the  craggy  cliff  he  loved  to  climb, 
Where  Punch  and  Scaramouch  aloft  are  seen, 

Where  Science  mounts  in  radiant  car  sublime, 
And  twilight  fairies  tread  the  circled  green. 

And,  borne  aloft  by  the  sustaining  blast, 

Whom  no  man  fully  sees,  and  none  can  see, 

'Wildered  and  weary,  sits  him  down  at  last, 
Beneath  the  shelter  of  an  aged  tree. 

I  will  not  stop  to  tell  how  far  he  fled, 
To  view  the  smile  of  evening  on  the  sea; 

He  tried  to  smile,  and,  half  succeeding,  said, 
"I  smell  a  loller  in  the  wind,"  said  he. 

"What  if  the  lion  in  his  rage  I  meet?" 

(The  Muse  interprets  thus  his  tender  thought.) 

The  scourge  of  Heaven!  what  terrors  round  him 

wait! 
From  planet  whirled  to  planet  more  remote. 

Thence  higher  still,  by  countless  steps  conveyed,  •;? 

Remote  from  towns  he  ran  his  godly  race; 
He  lectured  every  youth  that  round  him  played— 

The  jostling  tears  ran  down  his  honest  face. 

[176] 


* 


C ent one s 

\nother  spring!"  his  heart  exulting  cries. 
Vain  are  his  weapons,  vainer  is  his  force; 
milk-white  lion  of  tremendous  size 
Lays  him  along  the  snows  a  stiffened  corse. 


{The  haycock  rises,  and  the  frequent  rake 

Looks  on  the  bleeding  foe  that  made  him  bleed; 

iAnd  the  green  lizard  and  the  golden  snake 
Pause  at  the  bold  irrevocable  deed. 

Will  ye  one  transient  ray  of  gladness  dart, 
To  bid  the  genial  tear  of  pity  flow  ? 

By  Heaven!  I  would  rather  coin  my  heart, 
Or  Mr.  Miller's,  commonly  called  Joe! 

Anonymous. 


L 


ECHOES  * 

ADY  Clara  Vere  de  Vere 
Was  eight  years  old  she  said: 
Every  ringlet,    lightly  shaken,  ran 
itself  in  golden  thread. 

She  took  her  little  porringer: 
Of  me  she  shall  not  win  renown: 
"or  the  baseness  of  its  nature  shall  have  strength 
to  drag  her  down. 

"Sisters  and  brothers,  little  Maid? 
There  stands  the  Inspector  at  thy  door: 
e  a  dog,  he  hunts  for  boys  who  know  not  two 
and  two  are  four." 

*  By  permission  of  the  Macmillan  Company. 

[177] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

"Kind  words  are  more  than  coronets," 
She  said,  and  wondering  looked  at  me: 
'It  is  the  dead  unhappy  night,  and  I  must  hurry 
home   to   tea." 

Lewis  Carroll. 


WHATEVER  IS,  IS  RIGHT 

T    IVES  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead 
Who  never  to  himself  has  said, 

"Shoot  folly  as  it  flies"? 
Oh!  more  than  tears  of  blood  can  tell, 
Are  in  that  word,  farewell,  farewell! 
'Tis  folly  to  be  wise. 

And  what  is  friendship  but  a  name, 
That  boils  on  Etna's  breast  of  flame? 

Thus  runs  the  world  away. 
Sweet  is  the  ship  that's  under  sail 
To  where  yon  taper  cheers  the  vale, 

With  hospitable  ray! 

Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes 
Through  cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies! 
My  native  land,  good  night! 
Adieu,  adieu,  my  native  shore; 
'Tis  Greece,  but  living  Greece  no  more — 
Whatever  is,  is  right! 

Laman  BlancharJ,' 

[178] 


JESUITICAL   VERSES 


THE   DOUBLE-FACED   CREED 

(Read  down  or  across) 

hold  for  sound  faith  What  England's  church  allows, 

'hat  Rome's  faith  saith  My  conscience  disavows, 

ff here  the  king's  head  The  flock  can  take  no  shame 

he  flock's  misled  Who  hold  the  Pope  supreme. 

»fhere  the  altar's  dressed  The  worship's  scarce  divine 

Ipe  people's  blessed,  Whose  table's  bread  and  wine, 

He's  but  an  ass  Who  their  communion  flies 

•  [ho  shuns  the  mass  Is  catholic  and  wise. 

Anonymous. 


EQUIVOCAL  VERSES 

(Read  down  or  across) 

I  love  with  all  my  heart  The  Tory  party  here 

oe  Hanoverian  part  Most  hateful  do  appear 

id  for  the  Settlement  I  ever  have  denied 

Ijy  conscience  gives  consent  To  be  on  James's  side 

bst  righteous  in  the  cause  To  fight  for  such  a  king 

\  fight  for  George's  laws  Will  England's  ruin  bring 

is  my  mind  and  heart  In  this  opinion  I 

ough  none  will  take  my  part  Resolve  to  live  and  die." 

Anonymous. 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


THE    PLATFORM 

(Read  down  or  across) 


Hurrah  for 

Secession 

We  fight  for 

The  Confederacy 

We  love 

The  rebellion 

We  glory  in 

Separation 

We  fight  not  for 

Reconstruction 

We  must  succeed 

The  Union 

We  love  not 

We  never  said 

We  want 

Foreign  intervention 

We  cherish 

The  stars  and  bars 

We  venerate 

Southern  chivalry 

Death  to 

Abe  Lincoln 

Down  with 

Law  and  order 


The  old  Union 

Is  a  curse 

The  Constitution 

Is  a  league  with  hell 

Free  speech 

Is  treason 

A  free  press 

Will  not  be  tolerated 

The  negro's  freedom 

Must  be  obtained 

At  every  hazard 

We  love 

The  negro 

Let  the  Union  slide 

The  Union  as  it  was 

Is  played  out 

The  old  flag 

Is  a  flaunting  lie 

The  habeas  corpus 

Is  hateful 

JeflF  Davis 

Isn't  the  Government 

Mob  law 

Shall  triumph. 

Anonymous. 


[180] 


Jesuitical   Verses 


PANEGYRIC  ON  THE  LADIES 

(Read  alternate  lines) 


^T 


man  must  lead  a  happy  life 
Who's  free  from  matrimonial  chains, 
Who  is  directed  by  a  wife 

Is  sure  to  suffer  for  his  pains. 


Adam  could  find  no  solid  peace 
When  Eve  was  given  for  a  mate; 

Until  he  saw  a  woman's  face 
Adam  was  in  a  happy  state. 

In  all  the  female  race  appear 

Hypocrisy,  deceit,  and  pride; 
Truth,  darling  of  a  heart  sincere, 

In  woman  never  did  reside. 

What  tongue  is  able  to  unfold 

The  failings  that  in  woman  dwell? 

The  worth  in  woman  we  behold 
Is  almost  imperceptible. 

Confusion  take  the  man,  I  say, 
Who  changes  from  his  singleness, 

Who  will  not  yield  to  woman's  sway 
Is  sure  of  earthly  blessedness. 

Anonymous. 

[181] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

AMBIGUOUS  LINES 

(Read  with  a  comma  after  the  first  noun  in  each  line) 

I  saw  a  peacock  ,with  a  fiery  tail 
I  saw  a  blazing,  comet  ^pour  down  hail 
I  saw  a  cloud  all  wrapt  with  ivy  round 
I  saw  a  lofty  oak  creep  on  the  ground 
I  saw  a  beetle  swallow  up  a  whale 
I  saw  a  foaming  sea  brimful  of  ale 
saw  a  pewter  cup  sixteen  feet  deep 
saw  a  well  full  of  men's  tears  that  weep 
saw  wet  eyes  in  flames  of  living  fire 
saw  a  house  as  high  as  the  moon  and  higher 
saw  the  glorious  sun  at  deep  midnight 
saw  the  man  who  saw  this  wondrous  sight. 

I  saw  a  pack  of  cards  gnawing  a  bone 
I  saw  a  dog  seated  on  Britain's  throne 
I  saw  King  George  shut  up  within  a  box 
I  saw  an  orange  driving  a  fat  ox 
I  saw  a  butcher  not  a  twelvemonth  old 
I  saw  a  great-coat  all  of  solid  gold 
I  saw  two  buttons  telling  of  their  dreams 
I  saw  my  friends  who  wished  I'd  quit  these  themes. 

Anonymous. 


[182] 


ECHO   VERSES 


I 


ECHO 

ASKED  of  Echo,  t'other  day 

(Whose  words  are  often  few  and  funny), 
What  to  a  novice  she  could  say 

Of  courtship,  love,  and  matrimony. 
Quoth  Echo  plainly, — "  Matter-o'-money ! " 


Whom  should  I  marry?     Should  it  be 

A  dashing  damsel,  gay  and  pert, 
A  pattern  of  inconstancy; 

Or  selfish,  mercenary  flirt  ? 

Quoth  Echo,  sharply,— "Nary  flirt!" 

What  if,  aweary  of  the  strife 

That  long  has  lured  the  dear  deceiver, 
She  promise  to  amend  her  life, 

And  sin  no  more;  can  I  believe  her? 

Quoth  Echo,  very  promptly, — "Leave  her!" 

But  if  some  maiden  with  a  heart 
On  me  should  venture  to  bestow  it, 

Pray,  should  I  act  the  wiser  part 
To  take  the  treasure  or  forego  it  ? 
Quoth  Echo,  with  decision, — "Go  it!" 


A    IV  him  s  ey    Anthology 

But  what  if,  seemingly  afraid 

To  bind  her  fate  in  Hymen's  fetter, 

She  vow  she  means  to  die  a  maid, 
In  answer  to  my  loving  letter  ? 
Quoth  Echo,  rather  coolly, — "Let  her!" 

What  if,  in  spite  of  her  disdain, 

I  find  my  heart  intwined  about 
With  Cupid's  dear  delicious  chain 

So  closely  that  I  can't  get  out? 

Quoth  Echo,  laughingly, — "Get  out!" 

But  if  some  maid  with  beauty  blest, 

As  pure  and  fair  as  Heaven  can  make  her, 

Will  share  my  labor  and  my  rest 

Till  envious  Death  shall  overtake  her? 
Quoth  Echo  (sotto  voce),— "Take  her!" 

John  G.  Saxe. 

ROYALIST  LINES 

WHAT  wantest  thou,  that  thou  art  in  this 
sad  taking? 

Echo:  A  king. 
What  made  him  first  remove  hence  his  residing? 

Siding. 
Did  any  here  deny  him  satisfaction? 

Faction. 
Tell  me  wherein  the  strength  of  faction  lies  ? 

On  lies. 

What  didst  thou  when  the  king  left  his  Parlia- 
ment ? 

Lament. 


Echo    Verses 


What  terms  wouldst  give  to  gain  his  company? 

Any. 

What  wouldst  thou  do  if  here  thou  mightst  be- 
hold him  ? 

Hold  him. 

But  wouldst  thou  save  him  with  thy  best  endeav- 
our ? 

Ever. 

But  if  he  comes  not,  what  becomes  of  London  ? 

Undone. 

Anonymous. 

SONG 

T^CHO,  tell  me,  while  I  wander 

O'er  this  fairy  plain  to  prove  him, 
If  my  shepherd  still  grows  fonder, 
Ought  I  in  return  to  love  him? 
Echo:  Love  him,  love  him! 

If  he  loves,  as  is  the  fashion, 

Should  I  churlishly  forsake  him? 

Or  in  pity  to  his  passion, 

Fondly  to  my  bosom  take  him? 
Echo:  Take  him,  take  him! 

Thy  advice  then,  I'll  adhere  to, 

Since  in  Cupid's  chains  I've  led  him; 
And  with  Henry  shall  not  fear  to 
Marry,  if  you  answer,  "Wed  him!" 
Echo:  Wed  him,  wed  him! 

Addison. 


MACARONIC   POETRY 


VERY  FELIS-ITOUS 

FELIS  sedit  by  a  hole, 
Interne  she,  cum  omni  soul, 

Predere  rats. 

Mice  cucurrerunt  trans  the  floor. 
In  numero  duo  tres  or  more, 
Obliti  cats. 

Felis  saw  them  oculis, 

"I'll  have  them/'  inquit  she,  "I  guess, 

Dum  ludunt." 

Tune  ilia  crepit  toward  the  group, 
"Habeam"  dixit,  "good  rat  soup — 

Pingues  sunt." 

Mice  continued  all  ludere, 
Intenti  they  in  ludum  vere, 

Gaudenter. 

Tune  rushed  the  felis  into  them, 
Et  tore  them  omnes  limb  from  limb, 

Violenter. 

[186] 


Macaronic    Poetry 


MORAL 

Mures  omnes,  nunc  be  shy, 
Et  aurem  praebe  mihi — 

Benigne: 

Sic  hoc  satis — "verbum  sat," 
Avoid  a  whopping  Thomas  cat 

Studiose. 

Green  Kendnck. 


I 


ESTIVATION 

N  candent  ire  the  solar  splendour  flames; 

The  foles,  languescent,  pend  from  arid  rames; 
His  humid  front  the  cive,  anheling,  wipes, 
And  dreams  of  erring  on  ventiferous  ripes. 

How  dulce  to  vive  occult  to  mortal  eyes, 
Dorm  on  the  herb  with  none  to  supervise, 
Carp  the  suave  berries  from  the  crescent  vine, 
And  bibe  the  flow  from  longicaudate  kine! 

To  me,  alas!  no  verdurous  visions  come, 
Save  yon  exiguous  pool's  conferva-scum — 
No  concave  vast  repeats  the  tender  hue 
That  laves  my  milk-jug  with  celestial  blue. 

Me  wretched!  let  me  curr  to  quercine  shades! 
Effund  your  albid  hausts,  lactiferous  maids! 
Oh,  might  I  vole  to  some  umbrageous  clump, — 
Depart — be  off, — excede, — evade, — crump ! 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

[187] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


C 


CE   MEME  VIEUX  COON 

E  meme  vieux  coon  n'est  pas  quite  mort, 

II  n'est  pas  seulement  napping: 
Je  pense,  myself,  unless  j'ai  tort, 
Cette  chose  est  yet  to  happen. 


En  dix-huit  forty-four,  je  sais, 

Vous'll  hear  des  curious  noises; 
He'll  whet  ses  dents  against  some  Clay, 

Et  scare  des  Loco — Bois-es! 

You  know  qui  quand  il  est  awake, 
Et  quand  il  scratch  ses  clawses, 

Les  Locos  dans  leurs  souliers  shake, 
Et,  sheepish,  hang  leurs  jaws-es. 

Ce  meme  vieux  coon  je  ne  sais  pas  why, 

Le  mischief's  come  across  him, 
II  fait  believe  he's  going  to  die, 

Quand  seulement  playing  'possum. 

Mais  wait  till  nous  le  want  encore, 

Nous'll  stir  him  with  une  pole; 
He'll  bite  as  mauvais  as  before 

Nous  pulled  him  de  son  hole! 

Anonymous. 


[188] 


Macaronic    Poetry 


WILD  SPORTS  IN  THE   EAST 

RMA  virumque  cano  qui  primo  solebo  peep- 

ing, 

Jam  nunc  cum  tabbynox  languet  to  but- 
ton her  eyelids, 
Cum  pointers  et  spaniels  campos  sylvasque  per- 

errant. 
Vos  mihi — Brontothesi  over  arms  small  and  great 

dominantes, 
Date  spurs  to  dull  poet  qui  dog  Latin  carmina 

condit, 

Artibus  atque  novis  audax  dum  sportsman  I  follow 
Per  stubbles  et  turnips  et  tot  discrimina  rerum, 
Dum  partridge  with  popping  terrificare  minantur 
Pauci,  namque  valent  a  feather  tangere  plumbo! 
Carmina  si  hang  fire  discharge  them  bag-piping 

Apollo. 
Te  quoque,  magne  cleator,  te  memorande  pre- 

camur. 
Jam  nunc  thy  fame  gallops  super  Garamantos  et 

Indos, 
Nam   nabobs   nil   nisi   de   brimstone  et  charcoal 

loquentur, 

Horriferifizque  "Tippoo"  sulphurea,  sustinet  arma. 
Induit  ecce  shooter  tunicam  made  of  neat  marble 

drugget, 
Quae  bene  convenient  defluxit  to  the  waistband 

of  breeches, 
Nunc  paper  et  powder  et  silices  popped  in  the 

side-pocket, 

[189] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Immemor  haud  shot-bag  graditur  comitatus  two 

pointers, 

Mellorian  retinens  tormentum  dextra  bibarelled: 
En   stat    staunch    dog   Dingo   haud   aliter   quam 

steady  guide  post, 

Proximus  atque  Pero  per  stat  si  ponere  juxta, 
With  gun  cocked  and  levelled  at  aeva  lumineclauso, 
Nunc  avicida   resolves  haud  double  strong  par- 
cere  powder. 

Van  teneri  yelpers  vos  grandivique  parentes 
Nunc  palsy  pate  Jove  orate  to  dress  to  the  left 

hand, 
Et  Veneri  tip  the  wink  like  a  shot  to  skim  down 

ab  alto 

Mingere  per  touch-hole  totamque  madescere  prim- 
ing. 

Nunc  lugete  dire  nunc  sportsman  plangite  palmas, 
Ex  silis  ecce  lepus  from  box  cum  thistle  aperto! 
Bang  bellowed  both  barrels,  heu!  pronus  sterni- 

tur  each  dog, 

Et  puss  in  the  interim  creeps  away  sub  tegmine 
thornbush. 

Anonymous. 

TO  THE   FAIR  "COME-OUTER" 

LADY!  formosissima  tu! 
Caeruleis  oculis  have  you, 

Ditto  nose! 

Et  vous  n'avez  pas  une  faute — 
And  that  you  are  going  to  vote, 
Goodness  knows! 

[  190] 


Macaronic    Poetry 


And  the  roseus  on  your  cheek, 
And  your  Algebra  and  Greek, 

Are  parfait! 
And  your  jactus  oculi 
Knows  each  star  that  shines  in  the 

Milky  Way! 

You  have  pouting,  piquant  lips, 
Sans  doute  vous  pouvez  an  eclipse 

Calculate! 

Ne  Caerulum  colorantur, 
I  should  have  in  you,  instanter, 

Met  my  fate! 

Si,  by  some  arrangement  dual, 

I  at  once  were  Kant  and  Whewell; 

It  would  pay — 
Procus  noti  then  to  come 
To  so  sweet  an  Artium 

Magistra ! 

Or,  Jewel  of  Consistency, 

Si  possem  clear-starch,  cookere, 

Votre  learning 

Might  the  leges  proscribere — 
Do  the  pro  patria  mori, 

I,  the  churning! 

Anonymous 


[191] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


I 


"ICH   BIN  DEIN" 

N  tempus  old  a  hero  lived, 

Qui  loved  puellas  deux; 
He  ne  pouvait  pas  quite  to  say 
Which  one  amabat  mieux. 


Dit-il  lui-meme,  un  beau  matin, 
Non  'possum  both  avoir, 

Sed  si  address  Amanda  Ann, 
Then  Kate  and  I  have  war. 

Amanda  habet  argent  coin, 
Sed  Kate  has  aureas  curls; 

Et  both  sunt  very  d<ya6a, 
Et  quite  Formosa  girls. 

Enfin,  the  youthful  anthropos, 

<&i\ovv  the  duo  maids, 
Resolved  proponere  ad  Kate 

Devant  cet  evening's  shades. 

Procedens  then  to  Kate's  domo, 
II  trouve  Amanda  there; 

Kcu  quite  forgot  his  good  resolves 
Both  sunt  so  goodly  fair. 

Sed,  smiling  on  the  new  tapis, 
Between  the  puellas  twain, 

Coepit  to  tell  his  flame  to  Kate 
Dans  un  poetique  strain. 
[  192  ] 


Macaronic   Poetry 


Mais,  glancing  ever  and  anon 

At  fair  Amanda's  eyes, 
Illae  non  possunt  dicere, 

Pro  which  he  meant  his  sighs. 

Each  virgo  heard  the  demi  vow 
With  cheeks  as  rouge  as  wine, 

And  offering  each  a  milk-white  hand, 
Both  whispered,  "Ich  bin  dein!" 

Anonymous. 


MACARONIC  MOTHER  GOOSE 


JACK    AND    JILL 


TACK  cum  amico  Jill, 
Ascendit  super  montem; 
Johannes  cecedit  down  the  hill, 
Ex  forte  fregit  frontem. 


j 


LITTLE    BO-PEEP 

Parvula  Bo-peep 

Amisit  her  sheep, 
Et  nescit  wl\ere  to  find  'em; 

Desere  alone, 

Et  venient  home., 
Cum  omnibus  caudis  behind  'em. 

[193] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


LITTLE    JACK   HORNER 

Parvus  Jacobus  Horner 

Sedebat  in  corner, 
Edens  a  Christmas  pie; 

Inferuit  thumb, 

Extraherit  plum — 
damans,  "Quid  sharp  puer  am  I!" 

A  nonymousl 


['94] 


LINGUISTIC   AND   DIALECTIC 
VERSE 


I 


YE  CARPETTE   KNYGHTE  * 

HAVE  a  horse — a  ryghte  good  horse — 

Ne  doe  I  envie  those 
Who  scoure  ye  plaine  in  headie  course, 

Tyll  soddaine  on  theyre  nose 
They  lyghte  wyth  unexpected  force — 
It  ys — a  horse  of  clothes. 

I  have  a  saddel — "Say'st  thou  soe? 

With  styrruppes,  Knyghte,  to  boote?" 
I  sayde  not  that — I  answere  "Noe"- 

Yt  lacketh  such,  I  woot — 
It  ys  a  mutton-saddel,  loe! 

Parte  of  ye  fleecie  brute. 

I  have  a  bytte — ayghte  good  bytte — 

As  schall  bee  scene  in  tyme. 
Ye  jawe  of  horse  yt  wyll  not  fytte — 

Yts  use  ys  more  sublyme. 
Fayre  Syr,  how  deemest  thou  of  yt  ? 

Yt  ys — thys  bytte  of  rhyme. 

Lewis  Carroll. 

*  By  permission  of  the  Macmillan  Company. 

[i95] 


I 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


THE   CARELESSE  NURSE  MAYD 

SAWE  a  Mayd  sitte  on  a  Bank, 
Beguiled  by  wooer  fayne  and  fond! 
And  whiles  His  flatterynge  Vowes  She  drank 
Her  Nurselynge  slipt  within  a  Pond! 


All  Even  Tide  they  Talkde  and  Kist, 
For  She  was  Fayre  and  He  was  Kinde; 
The  Sunne  went  down  before  She  wist 
Another  Sonne  had  sett  behinde! 

With  angrie  Hands  and  frownynge  Browe, 
That  deemed  Her  own  the  Urchine's  Sinne, 
She  pluckt  Him  out,  but  he  was  nowe 
Past  being  Whipt  for  fallynge  in. 

She  then  beginnes  to  wayle  the  Ladde 
With  Shrikes  that  Echo  answered  round — 
O  foolishe  Mayd!  to  be  soe  sadde 
The  Momente  that  her  care  was  drownd! 

Thomas  Hood. 


A   BORDER   BALLAD* 

JAMIE  lad,  I  lo'e  ye  weel, 
Jamie  lad,  I  lo'e  nae  ither, 
Jamie  lad,  I  lo'e  ye  weel, 
Like  a  mither. 

*  From    "  More    Misrepresentative    Men,"    copyrighted,    1905,  by 
Fox,  Duffield  &  Co. 

[196] 


Linguistic    and  Dialectic    Verse 

Jamie's  ganging  doon  the  burn, 
Jamie's  ganging  doon,  whateffer, 
Jamie's  ganging  doon  the  burn, 
To  Strathpeffer! 

Jamie's  comin'  hame  to  dee, 
Jamie's  comin'  hame,  I'm  thinkin', 
Jamie's  comin'  hame  to  dee, 

Dee  o'  drinkin'! 

Hech!  Jamie!  Losh!  Jamie! 

Dinna  greet  sae  sair! 
Gin  ye  canna,  winna,  shanna 
See  yer  lassie  mair! 

Wha'  hoo! 
Wha'  hae! 
Strathpeffer! 

The  queys  are  moopin'  i'  the  mirk, 
An'  gin  ye  thole  abin'  the  kirk, 
I'll  gar  ye  tocher  hame  fra'  work, 

Sae  straught  an'  prinsie; 
In  vain  the  lavrock  leaves  the  snaw, 
The  sonsie  cowslips  blithely  blaw, 
The  elbucks  wheep  adoon  the  shaw, 

Or  warl  a  whimsy, 

The  cootie  muircocks  crousely  craw, 
The  maukins  tak'  their  fud  fu'  braw, 
I  gie  their  wanes  a  random  paw, 
For  a'  they're  skilpy; 

[  197] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

For  wha'  sae  glaikit,  gleg  an'  din, 
To  but  the  ben,  or  loup  the  linn, 
Or  scraw  aboon  the  tirlin'-pin 
Sae  frae  an*  gilpie  ? 

Och,  snood  the  sporran  roun'  ma  lap, 
The  cairngorm  clap  in  ilka  cap, 
Och,  hand  me  o'er 
Ma  lang  claymore, 
Twa  bannocks  an'  a  bap, 

Wha  hoo! 
Twa  bannocks  an'  a  bap! 

Captain  Harry  Graham. 


VILLIKENS  * 

QUAND  VILLIKINS  se  promenait  dans  son 
jardin  un  matin, 
II  decouvrit  La  Belle  Dinah  etendue  sur 

son  chemin, 

Une  tasse  de  soupe  poisonnee  froide  dans  sa  main 
Et   un   billet-doux   lisant   qu'elle  s'etait   suicidee 
bien. 

Le  corpus  rigide  il  1'embrassait  mille  fois; 
D'etre  separe  de  sa  Dinah  il  ne  1'endurait  pas; 
II  avalait  le  reste  de  la  soupe  execrable 
Et  fut  enteire  de  suite  avec  sa  Dinah  aimable. 

*  From  "  Blown  Away,"  by  Richard  Mansfield,  copyrighted,  1897, 
by  L.  C.  Page  &  Co.  (Inc.). 

[198] 


Linguistic    and   Dialectic    Verse 

Entendez  bien  la  morale  de  ma  plainte: 
D'un  amant  vulgaire  il  se  change  done  en  saint, 
Et  pour  toute  demoiselle  qui  se  tue  par  amour, 
Qu'il    meurt    en    martyr    un    jeune    bel-homme 


toujours! 


Richard  Mansfield. 


FROM  VIVETTE'S  "MILKMAID" 

AMAYDE  ther  was,  semely  and  meke  enow 
She  sate  a-milken  of  a  purpil  Cowe; 
Rosy  hire  cheke  as  in  the  Month  of  Maye 
And  sikerly  her  merry  Songe  was  gay 
As  of  the  Larke  vprist,  washen  in  Dewe; 
Like  Shene  of  Sterres  sperkled  hire  Eyen  two. 
Now  came  ther  by  that  Way,  a  hendy  Knight 
The  Mayde  espien  in  morwening  Light. 
A  faire  Perfon  he  was — of  Corage  trewe 
With  lusty  Berd  and  Chekes  of  rody  Hewe; 
Dere  Ladye  (quod  he)  far  and  wide  I've  straied 
Uncouthe  Aventure  in  strange  Contree  made 
Fro  Benvike  vnto  Ware.     Parde  I  vowe 
Erewhiles  I  never  sawe  a  purpil  Cowe! 
Fayn  wold  I  knowe  how  Catel  thus  can  be? 
Tel  me  I  praie  you,  of  yore  Courtesie! 
The  Mayde  hire  Milken  stent. — Goode  Sir  she  faide 
The  Master's  Mandement  on  vs  ylaid 
Decrees  that  in  these  yclept  gilden  Houres 
Hys  Kyne  shall  etc  of  nought  but  Vylet  Floures! 

Carolyn  Wells. 

[  199] 


A    Whims ey    Anthology 


TRIOLETS  OLLENDORFFIENS 

JE  suis  le  frere 
Du  bon  cocher; 
Ou  est  sa  mere? 
Je  suis  le  frere. 
Tu  es  le  pere 
Je  suis  le  frere 
Du  jardinier 
Du  bon  cocher. 

Ou  est  mon  canif  ? 
J'ai  perdu  ma  chatte. 
Je  veux  du  rosbif. 
Ou  est  mon  canif? 
J'ai  tue  le  Juif. 
Faut-il  qu'on  se  batte? 
Ou  est  mon  canif? 
J'ai  perdu  ma  chatte. 

La  belle  cousine 
Du  fils  de  ma  bru 
Vit  dans  ma  cuisine, 
La  belle  cousine! 
Ta  laide  voisine 
N'a  jamais  connu 
La  belle  cousine 
Du  fils  de  ma  bru. 

J.  K.  Stephen. 

[  20O  ] 


Linguistic   and  Dialectic    Verse 

JUSTICE  TO   SCOTLAND 

(An  unpublished  poem  by  Burns) 

OMICKLE  yeuks  the  keckle  doup, 
An*  a'  unsicker  girns  the  graith, 
For  wae  and  wae!  the  crowdies  loup 

O'er  jouk  an'  hallan,  braw  an*  baith 
Where  ance  the  coggie  hirpled  fair, 

And  blithesome  poortith  toomed  the  loof, 
There's  nae  a  burnie  giglet  rare 
But  blaws  in  ilka  jinking  coof. 

The  routhie  bield  that  gars  the  gear 

Is  gone  where  glint  the  pawky  een. 
And  aye  the  stound  is  birkin  lear 

Where  sconnered  yowies  wheeped  yestreen, 
The  creeshie  rax  wi'  skelpin'  kaes 

Nae  mair  the  howdie  bicker  whangs, 
Nor  weanies  in  their  wee  bit  claes 

Glour  light  as  lammies  wi'  their  sangs. 

Yet  leeze  me  on  my  bonny  byke! 

My  drappie  aiblins  blinks  the  noo. 
An'  leesome  luve  has  lapt  the  dyke 

Forgatherin'  just  a  wee  bit  fou. 
And  Scotia !  while  thy  rantin'  lunt 

Is  mirk  and  moop  with  gowans  fine, 
I'll  stowlins  pit  my  unco  brunt, 

An'  cleek  my  duds  for  auld  lang  syne. 

Punch. 
[201  ] 


A 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


"SOLDIER,   REST!" 

RUSSIAN  sailed  over  the  blue  Black  Sea 

Just  when  the  war  was  growing  hot, 
And  he  shouted,  "I'm  Tjalikavakeree — 
Karindabrolikanavandorot — 
Schipkadirova — 
Ivandiszstova — 
Sanilik — 
Danilik— 
Varagobhot!" 

A  Turk  was  standing  upon  the  shore 

Right  where  the  terrible  Russian  crossed; 
And  he  cried,  "Bismillah!  I'm  Abd  el  Kor— 
Bazaroukilgonautoskobrosk — 

Getzinpravadi — 
Grivido — 
Blivido — 
Jenikodosk!" 

So  they  stood  like  brave  men,  long  and  well, 

And  they  called  each  other  their  proper  names, 
Till  the  lockjaw  seized  them,  and  where  they  fell 
They  buried  them  both  by  the  Irdosholames — 
Kalatalustchuk — 
Mischaribustchup — 
Bulgari — 
Dulgari — 
Sagharimainz. 

Robert  J.  Burdette. 

[  202  ] 


PUNNING    WHIMSEYS 


THE  BEAUTIES  OF  ENGLISH   ORTHOG- 
RAPHY 


A 


PRETTY  deer  is  dear  to  me, 

A  hare  with  downy  hair, 
A  hart  I  love  with  all  my  heart, 
But  barely  bear  a  bear. 


'Tis  plain  that  no  one  takes  a  plane, 

To  have  a  pair  of  pears, 
Although  a  rake  may  take  a  rake, 

To  tear  away  the  tares. 

A  scribe  in  writing  right  may  write, 
May  write  and  still  be  wrong; 

For  write  and  rite  are  neither  right, 
And  don't  to  right  belong. 

Robertson  is  not  Robert's  son, 
Nor  did  he  rob  Hurt's  son, 

Yet  Robert's  sun  is  Robin's  sun, 
And  everybody's  sun. 

[203] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


Beer  often  brings  a  bier  to  man, 

Coughing  a  coffin  brings, 
And  too  much  ale  will  make  us  ail, 

As  well  as  other  things. 

The  person  lies  who  says  he  lies, 

When  he  is  not  reclining; 
And  when  consumptive  folk  decline, 

They  all  decline  declining. 

Quails  do  not  quail  before  the  storm, 

A  bow  will  bow  before  it; 
We  cannot  rein  the  rain  at  all — 

No  earthly  power  reigns  o'er  it. 

The  dyer  dyes  a  while,  then  dies — 

To  dye  he's  always  trying; 
Until  upon  his  dying  bed 

He  thinks  no  more  of  dyeing. 

A  son  of  Mars  mars  many  a  son, 
And  Deys  must  have  their  days; 

And  every  knight  should  pray  each  night 
To  Him  who  weighs  his  ways. 

Tis  meet  that  man  should  mete  out  meat 

To  feed  one's  future  son; 
The  fair  should  fare  on  love  alone, 

Else  one  cannot  be  won. 


Punning    Whimseys 


The  springs  shoot  forth  each  spring,  and  shoots 

Shoot  forward  one  and  all; 
Though  summer  kills  the  flowers,  it  leaves 

The  leaves  to  fall  in  fall. 

I  would  a  story  here  commence, 

But  you  might  think  it  stale; 
So  we'll  suppose  that  we  have  reached 

The  tail  end  of  our  tale. 

Anonymous. 


THE   BRIEFLESS   BARRISTER 

(A  Ballad) 


A 


N  Attorney  was  taking  a  turn, 

In  shabby  habiliments  drest; 
His  coat  it  was  shockingly  worn. 
And  the  rust  had  invested  his  vest. 


His  breeches  had  suffered  a  breach, 
His  linen  and  worsted  were  worse; 

He  had  scarce  a  whole  crown  in  his  hat. 
And  not  half-a-crown  in  his  purse. 

And  thus  as  he  wandered  along, 
A  cheerless  and  comfortless  elf, 

He  sought  for  relief  in  a  song, 

Or  complainingly  talked  to  himself: 

[205] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

"Unfortunate  man  that  I  am! 

I've  never  a  client  but  grief; 
The  case  is,  I've  no  case  at  all, 

And  in  brief,  I've  ne'er  had  a  brief! 

"I've  waited  and  waited  in  vain, 
Expecting  an  'opening'  to  find, 

Where  an  honest  young  lawyer  might  gain 
Some  reward  for  the  toil  of  his  mind. 

"Tis  not  that  I'm  wanting  in  law, 

Or  lack  an  intelligent  face, 
That  others  have  cases  to  plead, 

While  I  have  to  plead  for  a  case. 

"Oh,  how  can  a  modest  young  man, 
E'er  hope  for  the  smallest  progression — 

The  profession's  already  so  full 
Of  lawyers  so  full  of  profession ! " 

While  thus  he  was  strolling  around, 

His  eye  accidentally  fell 
On  a  very  deep  hole  in  the  ground, 

And  he  sighed  to  himself,  "It  is  well!" 

To  curb  his  emotions,  he  sat 

On  the  curb-stone  the  space  of  a  minute, 
Then  cried,  "Here's  an  opening  at  last!" 

And  in  less  than  a  jiffy  was  in  it! 

Next  morning  twelve  citizens  came 

('Twas  the  coroner  bade  them  attend), 

To  the  end  that  it  might  be  determined 
How  the  man  had  determined  his  end! 

[206] 


Punning    JVhimseys 


"The  man  was  a  lawyer,  I  hear," 

Quoth  the  foreman  who  sat  on  the  corse; 

"A  lawyer?  Alas!*'  said  another, 
"Undoubtedly  died  of  remorse!" 

A  third  said,  "He  knew  the  deceased, 
An  attorney  well  versed  in  the  laws, 

And  as  to  the  cause  of  his  death, 

'Twas  no  doubt  from  the  want  of  a  cause." 

The  jury  decided  at  length, 

After  solemnly  weighing  the  matter, 

"That  the  lawyer  was  drownded,  because 
He  could  not  keep  his  head  above  water!" 

'John  G.  Saxe. 


A  COUNTRY  SUMMER   PASTORAL 

(As  written  by  a  learned  scholar  of  the  city  from 
knowledge  derived  from  etymological  deductions  rather 
than  from  actual  experience) 

I  WOULD  flee  from  the  city's  rule  and  law, 
From  its  fashion  and  form  cut  loose, 
And  go  where  the  strawberry  grows  on  its 

straw, 

And  the  gooseberry  on  its  goose; 
Where  the  catnip  tree  is  climbed  by  the  cat 

As  she  crouches  for  her  prey — 
The  guileless  and  unsuspecting  rat 
On  the  rattan  bush  at  play. 

[207] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


I  will  watch  at  ease  for  the  saffron  cow 

And  the  cowlet  in  their  glee, 
As  they  leap  in  joy  from  bough  to  bough 

On  the  top  of  the  cowslip  tree; 
Where  the  musical  partridge  drums  on  his  drum, 

And  the  woodchuck  chucks  his  wood, 
And  the  dog  devours  the  dog-wood  plum 

In  the  primitive  solitude. 

And  then  to  the  whitewashed  dairy  I'll  turn, 

Where  the  dairymaid  hastening  hies, 
Her  ruddy  and  golden-haired  butter  to  churn 

From  the  milk  of  her  butterflies; 
And  I'll  rise  at  morn  with  the  early  bird, 

To  the  fragrant  farm-yard  pass, 
When  the  farmer  turns  his  beautiful  herd 

Of  grasshoppers  out  to  grass. 

Anonymous. 

JAPANESQUE* 

OH,  where  the  white  quince  blossom  swings 
I  love  to  take  my  Japan  ease! 
I  love  the  maid  Anise  who  clings 
So  lightly  on  my  Japan  knees; 
I  love  the  little  song  she  sings, 

The  little  love-song  Japanese. 
I  almost  love  the  lute's  tink-tunkle 

Played  by  that  charming  Jap  Anise — 
For  am  I  not  her  old  Jap  uncle? 
And  is  she  not  my  Japan  niece? 

Oliver  Her  ford. 

*  From  "  The  Bashful  Earthquake,"  published  by  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons. 

[208] 


Punning    IV hints eys 


TO  MY  NOSE 

T/"NOWS  he  that  never  took  a  pinch, 

Nosey,  the  pleasure  thence  which  flows, 
Knows  he  the  titillating  joys 
Which  my  nose  knows? 

0  Nose,  I  am  as  proud  of  thee 
As  any  mountain  of  its  snows, 

1  gaze  on  thee,  and  feel  that  pride 

A  Roman  knows! 

Alfred  A.  Forrester  (Alfred  Crowquil). 


A  CATALECTIC  MONODY! 

A  CAT  I  sing,  of  famous  memory, 
Though  catachrestical  my  song  may  be; 
In  a  small  garden  catacomb  she  lies, 
And  cataclysms  fill  her  comrades'  eyes; 
Borne  on  the  air,  the  catacoustic  song, 
Swells  with  her  virtues'  catalogue  along; 
No  cataplasm  could  lengthen  out  her  years, 
Though  mourning  friends  shed  cataracts  of  tears. 
Once  loud  and  strong  her  catechist-like  voice 
It  dwindled  to  a  catcall's  squeaking  noise; 
Most  categorical  her  virtues  shone, 
By  catenation  join'd  each  one  to  one; — 
But  a  vile  catchpoll  dog,  with  cruel  bite, 
Like  catling's  cut,  her  strength  disabled  quite; 
[209] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Her  caterwauling  pierced  the  heavy  air, 

As  cataphracts  their  arms  through  legions  bear; 

'Tis  vain!  as  caterpillars  drag  away 

Their  lengths,  like  cattle  after  busy  day, 

She  ling'ring  died,  nor  left  in  kit-kat  the 

Embodyment  of  this  catastrophe. 

Cruikskank's  Omnibus. 


SPELLING  REFORM 

WITH  tragic  air  the  love-lorn  heir 
Once  chased  the  chaste  Louise; 
She  quickly  guessed  her  guest  was  there 
To  please  her  with  his  pleas. 

Now  at  her  side  he  kneeling  sighed, 

His  sighs  of  woeful  size; 
"Oh,  hear  me  here,  for  lo,  most  low 

I  rise  before  your  eyes. 

"This  soul  is  sole  thine  own,  Louise — 

'Twill  never  wean,  I  ween, 
The  love  that  I  for  aye  shall  feel, 

Though  mean  may  be  its  mien ! " 

"You  know  I  cannot  tell  you  no," 

The  maid  made  answer  true; 
"I  love  you  aught,  as  sure  I  ought — 

To  you  'tis  due  I  do!" 
[210] 


Punning    Whimseys 


"Since  you  are  won,  oh  fairest  one, 

The  marriage  rite  is  right— 
The  chapel  aisle  I'll  lead  you  up 

This  night,"  exclaimed  the  knight. 

Anonymous. 


[211] 


TRAVESTIES 


B1 


OPTIMISM 

)E  brave,  faint  heart, 

The  dough  shall  yet  be  cake; 
Be  strong,  weak  heart, 

The  butter  is  to  come. 

Some  cheerful  chance  will  right  the  apple-cart, 
The  devious  pig  will  gain  the  lucky  mart, 
Loquacity  be  dumb, — 
Collapsed  the  fake. 
Be  brave,  faint  heart! 

Be  strong,  weak  heart, 

The  path  will  be  made  plain; 
Be  brave,  faint  heart, 

The  bore  will  crawl  away. 
The  upside  down  will  turn  to  right  side  up, 
The  stiffened  lip  compel  that  slipping  cup, 
The  doldrums  of  the  day 
Be  not  in  vain. 
Be  strong,  weak  heart! 

Be  brave,  faint  heart, 

The  jelly  means  to  jell; 
Be  strong,  weak  heart, 

The  hopes  are  in  the  malt. 
[212  ] 


Travesties 


The  wrong  side  in  will  yet  turn  right  side  out, 
The  long-time  lost  come  down  yon  cormorant  spout. 
Life  still  is  worth  her  salt: 
What  ends  well's  well. 
Be  brave,  faint  heart! 

N.M. 

THE  ORIGINAL  LAMB 

OH,  Mary  had  a  little  lamb,  regarding  whose 
cuticular 
The  fluff  exterior  was  white  and  kinked  in 

each  particular. 

( )n   each   occasion  when   the  lass  was  seen   per- 
ambulating, 
The  little  quadruped  likewisewas  there  a  gallivating. 

One  day  it  did  accompany  her  to  the  knowledge 

dispensary, 
Which  to  every  rule  and  precedent  was  recklessly 

contrary. 

Immediately  whereupon  the  pedagogue  superior, 
Exasperated,  did  eject  the  lamb  from  the  interior. 

Then  Mary,  on  beholding  such  performance 
arbitrary, 

Suffused  her  eyes  with  saline  drops  from  glands 
called  lachrymary, 

And  all  the  pupils  grew  thereat  tumultuously  hilari- 
ous, 

And  speculated  on  the  case  with  wild  conjectures 
various. 

[213] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

"What  makes  the  lamb  love  Mary  so  ?"  the  scholars 

asked  the  teacher. 
He  paused  a  moment,  then  he  tried  to  diagnose  the 

creature. 

"Oh  pecus  amorem  Mary  habit  omnia  temporum." 
"Thanks,  teacher  dear,"  the  scholars  cried,  and 

awe  crept  darkly  o'er  'em. 

TiJ-kits. 


THE  LITTLE  STAR 

OCINTILLATE   scintillate,  globule  orific, 
^^     Fain  would  I  fathom  thy  nature's  specific. 
Loftily  poised  in  ether  capacious, 
Strongly  resembling  a  gem  carbonaceous. 

When  torrid  Phoebus  refuses  his  presence 
And  ceases  to  lamp  with  fierce  incandescence, 
Then  you  illumine  the  regions  supernal, 
Scintillate,  scintillate,  semper  nocturnal. 

Then  the  victim  of  hospiceless  peregrination 
Gratefully  hails  your  minute  coruscation. 
He  could  not  determine  his  journey's  direction 
But  for  your  bright  scintillating  protection. 

Anonymous. 


Tr  a  v  e  s  t  i  e  s 


A  PIAZZA  TRAGEDY 

r  I  AHE  beauteous  Ethel's  father  has  a 
Newly  painted  front  piazza — 
He  has  a 
Piazza; 

When  with  tobacco  juice  'twas  tainted 
They  had  the  front  piazza  painted — 
That  tainted 
Piazza  painted. 


Algernon  called  that  night,  perchance, 
Arrayed  in  comely  sealskin  pants — 

That  night,  perchance, 

In  gorgeous  pants; 
Engaging  Ethel  in  a  chat 
On  that  piazza  down  he  sat — 

In  chat, 

They  sat. 


And  when  an  hour  or  two  had  pass'd, 
He  tried  to  rise,  but  oh!  stuck  fast — 

At  last 

Stuck  fast! 

Fair  Ethel  shrieked,  "It  is  the  paint!" 
And  fainted  in  a  deadly  faint — 

This  saint 

Did  faint. 

[215] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Algernon  sits  there  till  this  day — 
He  cannot  tear  himself  away, — 

Away  ? 

Nay,  nay! 

His  pants  are  firm,  the  paint  is  dry — 
He's  nothing  else  to  do  but  die — 

To  die! 

O  my! 

TLugene  Field. 


AFTER  DILETTANTE  CONCETTI 

*  T  T  THY  do  you  wear  your  hair  like  a  man, 
Y/Y  Sister  Helen? 

This  week  is  the  third  since  you  began." 
"I'm  writing  a  ballad;  be  still  if  you  can, 

Little  brother. 

(O  Mother  Carey,  mother! 

What  chickens  are  these  between  sea  and  heaven  ?) " 

"But  why  does  your  figure  appear  so  lean, 

Sister  Helen  ? 

And  why  do  you  dress  in  sage,  sage  green?" 
"Children  should  never  be  heard,  if  seen, 

Little  brother? 
(O  Mother  Carey,  mother! 
What  fowls  are  a-wing  in  the  stormy  heaven!)" 

"But  why  is  your  face  so  yellowy  white, 
Sister  Helen  ? 

[216] 


Travesties 


And  why  are  your  skirts  so  funnily  tight?" 
"Be  quiet,  you  torment,  or  how  can  I  write, 

Little  brother? 

(O  Mother  Carey,  mother! 

How  gathers  thy  train  to  the  sea  from  the  heaven !)' 

"And  who's  Mother  Carey,  and  what  is  her  train, 

Sister  Helen  ? 

And  why  do  you  call  her  again  and  again?" 
"You  troublesome  boy,  why  that's  the  refrain, 

Little  brother. 
(O  Mother  Carey,  mother! 
What  work  is  toward  in  the  startled  heaven?)" 

"And  what's  a  refrain?     What  a  curious  word, 

Sister  Helen! 

Is  the  ballad  you're  writing  about  a  sea-bird?" 
"Not  at  all;  why  should  it  be?     Don't  be  absurd, 

Little  brother. 
(O  Mother  Carey,  mother! 
Thy  brood  flies  lower  as  lowers  the  heaven.)" 

(A  big  brother  speaketh:) 
"The  refrain  you've  studied  a  meaning  had, 

Sister  Helen! 

It  gave  strange  force  to  a  weird  ballad. 
But  refrains  have  become  a  ridiculous  'fad,' 

Little  brother. 

And  Mother  Carey,  mother, 
Has  a  bearing  on  nothing  in  earth  or  heaven. 

[217] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

"But  the  finical  fashion  has  had  its  day, 

Sister  Helen. 

And  let's  try  in  the  style  of  a  different  lay 
To  bid  it  adieu  in  poetical  way, 

Little  brother. 
So,  Mother  Carey,  mother! 
Collect  your  chickens  and  go  to — heaven." 


(A  pause.      Then  the  big  brother  singeth,  accompany- 
ing himself  in  a  plaintive  wise  on  the  triangle.) 

"Look  in  my  face.     My  name  is  Used-to-was; 
I  am  also  called  Played-out,  and  Done  to  Death, 
And  It-will-wash-no-more.     Awakeneth 
Slowly  but  sure  awakening  it  has, 
The  common-sense  of  man;  and  I,  alas! 

The  ballad-burden  trick,  now  known  too  well, 
Am  turned  to  scorn,  and  grown  contemptible — 
A  too  transparent  artifice  to  pass. 

"What  a  cheap  dodge  I  am!     The  cats  who  dart 
Tin-kettled  through  the  streets  in  wild  surprise 
Assail  judicious  ears  not  otherwise; 
And  yet  no  critics  praise  the  urchin's  'art,' 
Who  to  the  wretched  creature's  caudal  part 
Its  foolish  empty-jingling  *  burden'  ties." 

H.  D.  Traill. 


[218] 


Travesties 


ISRAFIDDLESTRINGS 

IN  heaven  a  Spirit  doth  dwell 
Whose  heart  strings  are  a  fiddle, 
(The  reason  he  sings  so  well — 
This  fiddler  Israfel), 
And  the  giddy  stars  (will  any  one  tell 
Why  giddy  ?)  to  attend  his  spell 
Cease  their  hymns  in  the  middle. 

On  the  height  of  her  go 

Totters  the  Moon,  and  blushes 
As  the  song  of  that  fiddle  rushes 
Across  her  bow. 

The  red  Lightning  stands  to  listen, 
And  the  eyes  of  the  Pleiads  glisten 
As  each  of  the  seven  puts  its  fist  in 
Its  eyes,  for  the  mist  in. 

And  they  say — it's  a  riddle — 
That  all  these  listening  things, 

That  stop  in  the  middle 

For  the  heart-strung  fiddle 
With  such  the  Spirit  sings, 

Are  held  as  on  the  griddle 
By  these  unusual  strings. 

Wherefore  thou  art  not  wrong, 
Israfel!  in  that  thou  boastest 

Fiddlestrings  uncommon  strong; 

To  thee  the  fiddlestrings  belong 
With  which  thou  toastest 

Other  hearts  as  on  a  prong. 
[219] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Yes!  heaven  is  thine,  but  this 

Is  a  world  of  sours  and  sweets, — 

Where  cold  meats  are  cold  meats, 
And  the  eater's  most  perfect  bliss 

Is  the  shadow  of  him  who  treats. 

If  I  could  griddle 
As  Israfiddle 

Has  griddled — he  fiddle  as  I, — 
He  might  not  fiddle  so  wild  a  riddle 

As  this  mad  melody, 
While  the  Pleiads  all  would  leave  off  in  the  middle 

Hearing  my  griddle-cry. 

Anonymous. 


MIDSUMMER  MADNESS 

(A   Soliloquy) 

I  AM  a  hearthrug — 
Yes,  a  rug- 
Though  I  cannot  describe  myself  as  snug; 
Yet  I  know  that  for  me  they  paid  a  price 
For  a  Turkey  carpet  that  would  suffice 
(But  we  live  in  an  age  of  rascal  vice). 

Why  was  I  ever  woven, 
For  a  clumsy  lout,  with  a  wooden  leg, 
To  come  with  his  endless  Peg!  Peg! 

Peg!  Peg! 

With  a  wooden  leg, 
Till  countless  holes  I'm  drove  in. 
[  220  ] 


Travesties 


("Drove,"  I  have  said,  and  it  should  be  "driven  "; 
A  heartrug's  blunders  should  be  forgiven, 
For  wretched  scribblers  have  exercised 

Such  endless  bosh  and  clamour, 
So  improvidently  have  improvised, 
That  they've  utterly  ungrammaticised 

Our  ungrammatical  grammar). 
And  the  coals 
Burn  holes, 

Or  make  spots  like  moles, 

And  my  lily-white  tints,  as  black  as  your  hat  turn, 
And    the    housemaid    (a    matricide,    will-forging 

slattern), 

Rolls 

The  rolls 

From  the  plate,  in  shoals, 

When  they're  put  to  warm  in  front  of  the  coals; 
And  no  one  with  me  condoles, 
For  the  butter  stains  on  my  beautiful  pattern. 
But  the  coals  and  rolls,  and  sometimes  soles, 
Dropp'd  from  the  frying-pan  out  of  the  fire, 
Are  nothing  to  raise  my  indignant  ire, 

Like  the  Peg!  Peg! 
Of  that  horrible  man  with  the  wooden  leg. 

This  moral  spread  from  me, 

Sing  it,  ring  it,  yelp  it — 
Never  a  hearthrug  be, 

That  is  if  you  can  help  it. 

Anonymous. 


[221] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


BALLAD  OF  THE  CANAL 


w 


E  were  crowded  in  the  cabin, 

Not  a  soul  had  room  to  sleep; 
It  was  midnight  on  the  waters, 
And  the  banks  were  very  steep. 


'Tis  a  fearful  thing  when  sleeping 

To  be  startled  by  the  shock, 
And  to  hear  the  rattling  trumpet 

Thunder,  "Coming  to  a  lock!" 

So  we  shuddered  there  in  silence, 
For  the  stoutest  berth  was  shook, 

While  the  wooden  gates  were  opened 
And  the  mate  talked  with  the  cook. 

And  as  thus  we  lay  in  darkness, 
Each  one  wishing  we  were  there, 

"We  are  through!"  the  captain  shouted, 
And  he  sat  down  on  a  chair. 

And  his  little  daughter  whispered, 
Thinking  that  he  ought  to  know, 

"Isn't  travelling  by  canal-boats 
Just  as  safe  as  it  is  slow?" 

Then  he  kissed  the  little  maiden, 

And  with  better  cheer  we  spoke, 
And  we  trotted  into  Pittsburg, 

When  the  morn  looked  through  the  smoke. 

Phoebe  Gary. 
[  222  ] 


Travesties 


POETRY  AND  THE   POET* 

(A  Sonnet) 

(Found  on  the  Poet's  desk) 

WEARY,  I  open  wide  the  antique  pane 
I  ope  to  the  air 
I  ope  to 
I  open  to  the  air  the  antique  pane 

(  beyond  ?    "| 
And  gaze  <  V  the  thrift-sown  fields  of 

( across        J 
wheat,  (commonplace  ?) 
A-shimmering  green  in  breezes  born  of  heat; 
And  lo! 
And  high 

fa?"l 
And  my  soul's  eyes  behold  <  the  >  billowy  main 

Whose  further  shore  is  Greece  strain 

again 

vain 

(Arcadia — mythological  allusion.  — Mem.:    Lem- 

priere.) 

I  see  thee,  Atalanta,  vestal  fleet, 
And  look !  with  doves  low-fluttering  round  her  feet, 

(  fields  of  n 

Comes  Venus  through  the  golden  <  >  grain 

t  bowing    J 

*  From  Poems  of  H.  C.  Bunner,  by  permission  of  Char'es  Scribner's 
Sons. 

[223] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

(Heard  by  the  Poet's  neighbor) 
Venus  be  bothered — it's  Virginia  Dix! 

(Found  on  the  Poet's  door) 
Out  on  important  business — back  at  6. 

H.  C.  Bunner. 


WHENCENESS  OF  THE  WHICH 

(Some  distance  after  Tennyson) 

COME  into  the  Whenceness  Which, 
For  the  fierce  Because  has  flown: 
Come  into  the  Whenceness  Which, 

I  am  here  by  the  Where  alone; 
And  the  Whereas  odors  are  wafted  abroad 
Till  I  hold  my  nose  and  groan. 

Queen  Which  of  the  Whichbud  garden  of  What's 

Come  hither  the  jig  is  done. 
In  gloss  of  Isness  and  shimmer  of  Was, 

Queen  Thisness  and  Which  is  one; 
Shine  out,  little  Which,  sunning  over  the  bangs, 

To  the  Nowness,  and  be  its  sun. 

There  has  fallen  a  splendid  tear 

From  the  Is  flower  at  the  fence; 
She  is  coming,  my  Which,  my  dear, 

And  as  she  Whistles  a  song  of  the  Whence, 
The  Nowness  cries,  "She  is  near,  she  is  near." 

And  the  Thingness  howls,  "Alas!" 
The  Whoness  murmurs,  "Well,  I  should  smile," 

And  the  Whatlet  sobs,  "I  pass." 

Anonymous. 
[224] 


Travesties 


THE  MIGHTY  MUST 

COME  mighty  Must! 
Inevitable  Shall! 
In  thee  I  trust. 

Time  weaves  my  coronal! 
Go  mocking  Is! 

Go  disappointing  Was! 
That  I  am  this 

Ye  are  the  cursed  cause! 
Yet  humble  second  shall  be  first, 

I  ween; 

And  dead  and  buried  be  the  curst 
Has  Been! 

Oh  weak  Might  Be! 

Oh,  May,  Might,  Could,  Would,  Should! 
How  powerless  ye 

For  evil  or  for  good! 
In  every  sense 

Your  moods  I  cheerless  call, 
Whatever  your  tense 

Ye  are  imperfect,  all! 
Ye  have  deceived  the  trust  I've  shown 

In  ye! 

Away!    The  Mighty  Must  alone 
Shall  be! 

W.  S.  Gilbert. 


[225] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


A  CONCORD  LOVE-SONG* 

SHALL  we  meet  again,  love, 
In  the  distant  When,  love, 
When  the  Now  is  Then,  love, 

And  the  Present  Past  ? 
Shall  the  mystic  Yonder, 
On  which  I  ponder, 
I  sadly  wonder, 
With  thee  be  cast? 

Ah,  the  joyless  fleeting 
Of  our  primal  meeting, 
And  the  fateful  greeting 

Of  the  How  and  Why! 
Ah,  the  Thingness  flying 
From  the  Hereness,  sighing 
For  a  love  undying 

That  fain  would  die! 

Ah,  the  Ifness  sadd'ning, 
The  Whichness  madd'ning, 
And  the  But  ungladd'ning, 

That  lie  behind! 
When  the  signless  token 
Of  love  is  broken 
In  the  speech  unspoken 

Of  mind  to  mind! 

*  By  permission  of  E.  H.  Bacon  &  Co. 

[226] 


Travesties 


But  the  mind  perceiveth 
When  the  spirit  grieveth, 
And  the  heart  relieveth 

Itself  of  woe; 

And  the  doubt-mists  lifted 
From  the  eyes  love-gifted 
Are  rent  and  rifted 

In  the  warmer  glow. 

In  the  inner  Me,  love, 
As  I  turn  to  thee,  love, 
I  seem  to  see  love, 

No  Ego  there. 
But  the  Meness  dead,  love, 
The  Theeness  fled,  love, 
And  born  instead,  love, 

An  Usness  rare! 

James  Jeffrey  Roche. 

A  SONG  OF  SORROW* 

(A  Lullabylet  for  a  Magazinelet) 

WAN  from  the  wild  and  woful  West — 
Sleep,  little  babe,  sleep  on! 
Mother  will  sing  to — you  know  the  rest — 

Sleep,  little  babe,  sleep  on! 
Softly  the  sand  steals  slowly  by, 
Cursed  be  the  curlew's  chittering  cry; 
By-a-by,  oh,  by-a-by! 
Sleep,  little  babe,  sleep  on! 

*  By  permission  of  Harper  &  Bros. 

[227] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Rosy  and  sweet  come  the  hush  of  night — 

Sleep,  little  babe,  sleep  on! 
(Twig  to  the  lilt,  I  have  got  it  all  right) 

Sleep,  little  babe,  sleep  on! 
Dark  are  the  dark  and  darkling  days 
Winding  the  webbed  and  winsome  ways, 
Homeward  she  creeps  in  dim  amaze — 

Sleep,  little  babe,  sleep  on! 

(But  it  waked  up,  drat  it!) 

Charles  Battell  Loomts. 


WATERLOO  PLACE 

WUW— Wuw— Wuw— Wuw— Wuw— Wuw- 
W— Waterloo  Place  ?  yes  you 
T — take  the  first  tut — tut — tut — turning 

that  faces  you, — 

Lul — left, — and  then  kuk — kuk — kuk — kuk — 
kuk — kuk — keep  up,  Pall  Mall  'till  you 

See  the  Wuw — wuw Wuw Wuw — 

Zounds,  Sir,  you'll  get  there  before  I  can  tell 

H.  Cholmondeley-PennelL 
ALL  THE  SAME   IN  THE  END 

(Epitaph  in  the  Homers  field,  Eng.,  Churchyard) 


A 


S  I  walked  by  myself,  I  talked  to  myself, 
And  thus  myself  said  unto  me: 
Look  to  thyself,  and  take  care  of  thyself, 
For  nobody  cares  for  thee." 

[228] 


Tra  v es ties 


So  I  turned  to  myself,  and  answered  myself 

In  the  self-same  reverie: 

"  Look  to  thyself  or  not  to  thyself, 

The  self-same  thing  it  will  be." 

Isaac  Ross. 


A  APPEAL  FOR  ARE  TO  THE  SEXTANT 
OF  THE  OLD  BRICK  MEETINOUSE 

(By  a  gasper) 

I^HE  sextant  of  the  meetinouse,  which  sweeps 
And  dusts,  or  is  supposed  too!  and  makes 

fiers, 
And  lites  the  gas  and  sometimes  leaves  a 

screw  loose, 

in  which  case  it  smells  orful — worse  than  lampile; 
And  wrings  the  Bel  and  toles  it  when  men  dyes 
to  the  grief  of  survivin  pardners,  and  sweeps  pathes; 
And  for  the  servases  gits  £100  per  annum, 
Which  them  that  thinks  deer,  let  em  try  it; 
Getting  up  be  foar  star-lite  in  all  weathers  and 
Kindlin-fires  when  the  wether  it  is  cold 
As  zero,  and  like  as  not  green  wood  for  kindlers; 
I  wouldn't  be  hired  to  do  it  for  no  some — 
But  o  sextant!  there  are  I  kermoddity 
Which's  more  than  gold,  wich  doant  cost  nothin, 
Worth  more  than  anything  exsep  the  Sole  of  Man. 
i  mean  pewer  Are,  sextent,  i  mean  pewer  are! 
O  it  is  plenty  out  o  dores,  so  plenty  it  doant  no 
What  on  airth  to  dew  with  itself,  but  flys  about 
[229] 


A    Whims  ey    Anthology 

Scaterin  levs  and  bloin  of  men's  hatts; 

in  short,  jest    'fre  as  are"  out  dores. 

But  o  sextant,  in  our  church  its  scarce  as  piety, 

scarce  as  bank  bills  wen  agints  beg  for  mischuns, 

VVich  some  say  purty  often  (taint  nothin  to  me, 

Wat  I  give  aint  nothin  to  nobody),  but  o  sextant, 

u  shut  500  mens  wimmen  and  children, 

Speshally  the  latter,  up  in  a  tite  place, 

Some  has  bad  breths,  none  aint  2  swete, 

some  is  fevery,  some  is  scrofilus,  some  has  bad  teeth, 

And  some  haint  none,  and  some  aint  over  clean; 

But  every  I  on  em  breethes  in  and  out  and  out  and 

in, 
Say  50  times  a  minit,  or  I  million  and  a  half  breths 

an  our, 
Now  how  long  will  a  church  ful  of  are  last  at  that 

rate, 

I  ask  you,  say  15  minutes,  and  then  wats  to  be  did  ? 
Why  then  they  must  brethe  it  all  over  agin. 
And  then  agin,  and  so  on,  till  each  has  took  it  down, 
At  least  ten  times,  and  let  it  up  again,  and  wats  more 
The  same  individible  don't  have  the  privilege 
of  brethen  his  own  are,  and  no  one's  else; 
Each  one  mus  take  whatever  comes  to  him. 
O  sextant,  don't  you  know  our  lungs  is  bellusses, 
To  bio  the  fier  of  life,  and  keep  it  from 
goin  out;  and  how  can  bellusses  blow  without  wind, 
And  aint  wind  are  ?  i  put  it  to  your  conscens. 
Are  is  the  same  to  us  as  milk  to  babes, 
Or  water  to  fish,  or  pendlums  to  clox— 
Or  roots  and  airbs  unto  an  injun  Doctor, 
Or  little  pils  to  an  omepath, 

[230] 


Travesties 


Or  boys  to  gurls.     Are  is  for  us  to  brethe, 

Wat  signifies  who  preeches  if  i  cant  brethe  ? 

Wats  Pol  ?     Wats  Pollus  ?  to  sinners  who  are  ded  ? 

Ded  for  want  of  breth  ?  why  sextant,  when  we  die 

Its  only  coz  we  cant  brethe  no  more — that's  all. 

And  now,  O  sextant,  let  me  beg  of  you 

2  let  a  little  are  into  our  church. 

(Fewer  are  is  sertin  proper  for  the  pews) 

And  do  it  weak  days  and  Sundays  tew — 

It  aint  much  trouble — only  make  a  hole 

And  the  are  will  come  in  itself; 

(It  luvs  to  come  in  whare  it  can  git  warm:) 

And  o  how  it  will  rouse  the  people  up 

And  sperrit  up  the  preacher,  and  stop  garbs, 

And  yawns  and  figgits  as  effectooal 

As  wind  on  the  dry  Boans  the  Profit  tells  of. 

Anonymous. 


[231  ] 


TECHNICAL   WHIMSEYS 


THE  COSMIC  EGG 

UPON  a  rock,  yet  uncreate, 
Amid  a  chaos  inchoate, 
An  uncreated  being  sate; 
Beneath  him,  rock, 
Above  him,  cloud. 
And  the  cloud  was  rock, 
And  the  rock  was  cloud. 
The  rock  then  growing  soft  and  warm, 
The  cloud  began  to  take  a  form, 
A  form  chaotic,  vast  and  vague, 
Which  issued  in  the  cosmic  egg. 
Then  the  Being  uncreate 
On  the  egg  did  incubate, 
And  thus  became  the  incubator; 
And  of  the  egg  did  allegate, 
And  thus  became  the  alligator; 
And  the  incubator  was  potentate, 
But  the  alligator  was  ootentator. 

Anonymous. 


[  232  ] 


Technical   Whimseys 


ODE  ON  THE  450TH  ANNIVERSARY 
CELEBRATION  AT  ETON 


of  a  number:  double  It 
(If  that  does  not  surpass  thy  wit); 
Subtract  a  dozen:  add  a  score: 

Divide  by  twenty:  multiply 

By  twice  the  cube  of  x-f  y, 

And  half  again  as  many  more: 

Then  take  the  twenty-seventh  root 

And  logarithmic  sine  to  boot, 

And  if  the  answer  show 

Just  nine  times  fifty,  make  it  so. 

There's  something  more  than  half  divine 

In  fifty  multiplied  by  nine: 

And  never  integer  has  been 

So  grand  as  thirty  times  fifteen: 

The  total  I  could  doubtless  praise 

In  many  other  striking  ways: 

But  this  at  least  is  very  plain,  — 

The  same  will  never  come  again. 

Then  make  an  exhibition  please 

And  summon  guests  from  far  and  wide: 

And  marry  mystic  melodies 

To  odes  instinct  with  proper  pride. 

Invoke  the  Founder's  mighty  name, 

And  boast  of  Gray's  and  Shelley's  fame: 

[233] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

For  this  is  very  sure:  that  he 
Who  misses  the  latest  jubilee 
Shall  not  improbably  be  vexed 
By  missing  equally  the  next. 

Then  let  us  resolutely  strive 
This  mighty  fact  to  keep  alive 
That  5  times  9  is  45; 

And  furthermore  the  truth  to  fix 
(In  their  behoof  whose  course  will  run 
In  June  of  1981) 

That  54  is  9  times  6. 

7.  K.  Stephen. 


I 


NURSERY  GARDENING 

LEARN,  in  Kindergarten,  all 
The  little  things  are  small. 


And  how  to  fix  a  thing  that  winds. 
She  says  it  rests  our  minds. 

And  purple  paper  weaved  with  blue 
The  next  thing  is  to  do. 

And  toolyjoor  I  always  learn 
How  water  will  not  burn. 

And  then  we  string  some  yellow  straw; 
I  wonder  what  it's  for. 

[234] 


Tech  nic al   W h  im s ey  s 


And  Teacher  makes  us  muddle  clay 
One  time  each  single  day; 

And  sing  about  a  kitty-cat; 
But  never  learned  me  that. 

N.M. 


THE  CHEMIST  TO  HIS  LOVE 

I   LOVE  thee,  Mary,  and  thou  lovest  me — 
Our  mutual  flame  is  like  th'  affinity 
That  doth  exist  between  two  simple  bodies; 
I  am  Potassium  to  thine  Oxygen. 
'Tis  little  that  the  holy  marriage  vow 
Shall  shortly  make  us  one.     That  unity 
Is,  after  all,  but  metaphysical. 
Oh,  would  that  I,  my  Mary,  were  an  acid, 
A  living  acid;  thou  an  alkali 

Endowed  with  human  sense,  that,  brought  together, 
We  both  might  coalesce  into  one  salt, 
One  homogeneous  crystal.     Oh!  that  thou 
Wert  Carbon,  and  myself  were  Hydrogen; 
We  would  unite  to  form  olefiant  gas, 
Or  common  coal,  or  naphtha — would  to  Heaven 
That  I  were  Phosphorus,  and  thou  wert  Lime! 
And  we  of  Lime  composed  a  Phosphuret. 
I'd  be  content  to  be  Sulphuric  Acid, 
So  thou  might  be  Soda;  in  that  case 
We  should  be  Glauber's  Salt.     Wert  thou  Magnesia 
Instead,  we'd  form  that's  named  from  Epsom. 
Couldst  thou  Potassia  be,  I  Aqua-fortis, 

[235] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Our  happy  union  should  that  compound  form, 
Nitrate  of  Potash  —  otherwise  Saltpetre. 
And  thus  our  several  natures  sweetly  blent, 
We'd  live  and  love  together,  until  death 
Should  decompose  that  fleshly  tertium  quid, 
Leaving  our  souls  to  all  eternity 
Amalgamated.     Sweet,  thy  name  is  Briggs 
And  mine  is  Johnson.     Wherefore  should  not  we   i 
Agree  to  form  a  Johnsonate  of  Briggs  ? 
We  will!     The  day,  the  happy  day  is  nigh, 
When  Johnson  shall  with   beauteous  Briggs  com- 
bine. 

Punch. 

ZOOLOGY 

AH!  merry  is  the  Madrepore  that  sits  beside  the  j 
sea; 
The  cheery  little  Coralline  hath  many  charms    • 

for  me; 
I  love  the  fine  Echinoderms,  of  azure,  green,  and 


That  handled  roughly  fling  their  arms  impulsively 

away; 
Then  bring  me  here  the  microscope  and  let  me  see 

the  cells 
Wherein   the   little  Zoophite   like  garden   floweret 

dwells. 

We'll  take  the  fair  Anemone  from  off  its  rocky  seat, 
Since  Rondeletius  has  said  when  fried  'tis  good  to 
eat. 


Tech  nic  a  I   W h  im  s  ey  s 


Dyspeptics  from  Sea-Cucumbers  a  lesson  well  may 

win, 
They  blithely  take  their  organs  out  and  put  some 

fresh  ones  in. 
The  Rotifer  in  whirling  round  may  surely  bear  the 

bell, 
With  Oceanic  Hydrozoids  that  Huxley  knows  so 

well. 

You've  heard  of  the  Octopus,  'tis  a  pleasant  thing 

to  know 
He  has  a  ganglion  makes  him  blush,  not  red,  but 

white  as  snow; 
And  why  the  strange  Cercaria,  to  go  a  long  way 

back, 

Wears  ever,  as  some  ladies  do,  a  fashionable  "sac"; 
And  how  the  Pawn  has  parasites  that  on  his  head 

make  holes; 
Ask  Dr.  Cobbold,  and  he'll  say  they're  just  like 

tiny  soles. 

Then  study  well  zoology,  and  add  unto  your  store 

The  tale  of  Biogenesis  and  Protoplasmic  lore; 

As  Paley  neatly  has  observed,  when  into  life  they 

burst, 
The  frog  and  the  philosopher  are  just  the  same  at 

first; 

But  what's  the  origin  of  life  remains  a  puzzle  still, 
Let  Tyndall,  Haeckel,  Bastian,  go  wrangle  as  they 

will. 

Punch. 

[237] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


A  BILLET-DOUX 

ACCEPT,  dear  Miss,  this  article  of  mine, 
(For  what's  indefinite,  who  can  define?) 
My  case  is  singular,  my  house  is  rural, 
Wilt  thou,  indeed,  consent  to  make  it  plural? 
Something,  I  feel,  pervades  my  system  through. 
I  can't  describe,  yet  substantively  true, 
Thy  form  so  feminine,  thy  mind  reflective, 
Where  all's  possessive  good,  and  nought  objective. 
I'm  positive  none  can  compare  with  thee 
In  wit  and  worth's  superlative  degree. 
First  person,  then,  indicative  but  prove, 
Let  thy  soft  passive  voice  exclaim,  "I  love!" 
Active,  in  cheerful  mood,  no  longer  neuter, 
I'll  leave  my  cares,  both  present,  past,  and  future. 
But  ah!  what  torture  must  I  undergo 
Till  I  obtain  that  little  "Yes"  or  "No!" 
Spare  me  the  negative — to  save  compunction, 
Oh,  let  my  preposition  meet  conjunction! 
What  could  excite  such  pleasing  recollection, 
At  hearing  thee  pronounce  this  interjection, 
"I  will  be  thine!  thy  joys  and  griefs  to  share, 
Till  Heaven  shall  please  to  point  a  period  there!" 

Anonymous. 


[238] 


IMITATIVE   HARMONY 


THE   BELLS 

Hear  the  sledges  with  the  bells — 

Silver  bells — 

What  a  world  of  merriment  their  melody  foretells! 
How  they  tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle, 

In  the  icy  air  of  night ! 
While  the  stars  that  oversprinkle 
All  the  heavens,  seem  to  twinkle 

With  a  crystalline  delight; 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, 
To  the  tintinnabulation  that  so  musically  wells 
From  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells— 
From  the  jingling  and  the  tinkling  of  the  bells. 

Hear  the  mellow  wedding-bells, 

Golden  bells! 

What  a  world  of  happiness  their  harmony  foretells! 
Through  the  balmy  air  of  night 
How  they  ring  out  their  delight 
From  the  molten-golden  notes! 

And  all  in  tune, 
What  a  liquid  ditty  floats 

To  the  turtle-dove  that  listens,  while  she  gloats 
On  the  moon! 

[239] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Oh,  from  out  the  sounding  cells, 
What  a  gush  of  euphony  voluminously  wells! 
How  it  swells! 
How  it  dwells 
On  the  Future!  how  it  tells 
Of  the  rapture  that  impels 
To  the  swinging  and  the  ringing 

Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells— 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells— 
To  the  rhyming  and  the  chiming  of  the  bells! 

Hear  the  loud  alarum  bells — 

Brazen  bells! 

What  a  tale  of  terror,  now,  their  turbulency  tells!  J 
In  the  startled  ear  of  night 
How  they  scream  out  their  affright! 
Too  much  horrified  to  speak, 
They  can  only  shriek,  shriek, 

Out  of  tune, 
In   a   clamorous   appealing   to   the   mercy  of  the 

fire, 
In  a  mad  expostulation  with  the  deaf  and  frantic 

fire 

Leaping  higher,  higher,  higher, 
With  a  desperate  desire, 
And  a  resolute  endeavour, 
Now — now  to  sit  or  never, 
By  the  side  of  the  pale-faced  moon. 
Oh,  the  bells,  bells,  bells! 
What  a  tale  their  terror  tells 
Of  despair! 

[240] 


Imitative    Harmony 

How  they  clang,  and  clash,  and  roar! 
What  a  horror  they  outpour 
On  the  bosom  of  the  palpitating  air! 
Yet  the  ear,  it  fully  knows, 
By  the  twanging 
And  the  clanging, 
How  the  danger  ebbs  and  flows; 
Yet  the  ear  distinctly  tells, 
In  the  jangling 
And  the  wrangling, 
How  the  danger  sinks  and  swells, 
By  the  sinking  or  the  swelling  in  the  anger  of  the 

bells- 

Of  the  bells- 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells- 
In  the  clamour  and  the  clangour  of  the  bells! 


Hear  the  tolling  of  the  bells — 

Iron  bells! 
What  a  world   of  solemn  thought  their  monody 

compels! 

In  the  silence  of  the  night 
How  we  shiver  with  affright 
At  the  melancholy  menace  of  their  tone! 
For  every  sound  that  floats 
From  the  rust  within  their  throats, 

Is  a  groan: 

And  the  people — ah,  the  people — 
They  that  dwell  up  in  the  steeple, 
All  alone, 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

And  who,  tolling,  tolling,  tolling, 

In  that  muffled  monotone, 
Feel  a  glory  in  so  rolling 

On  the  human  heart  a  stone — 
They  are  neither  man  nor  woman — 
They  are  neither  brute  nor  human — 

They  are  Ghouls! 
And  their  king  it  is  who  tolls; 
And  he  rolls,  rolls,  rolls,  rolls, 

A  paean  from  the  bells! 
And  his  merry  bosom  swells 

With  the  paean  of  the  bells! 
And  he  dances  and  he  yells; 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, 
To  the  paean  of  the  bells — 

Of  the  bells; 

Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, 

To  the  throbbing  of  the  bells — 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells, 

To  the  sobbing  of  the  bells; 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 

As  he  knells,  knells,  knells, 
In  a  happy  Runic  rhyme, 

To  the  rolling  of  the  bells — 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells— 

To  the  tolling  of  the  bells, 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells— 
To  the  moaning  and  the  groaning  of  the  bells. 

Edgar  Allan  Poe. 
[242] 


Imitative    Harmony 


THE  CATARACT  OF  LODORE 

HOW  does  the  water 
Come  down  at  Lodore?" 
My  little  boy  asked  me 
Thus,  once  on  a  time; 
And  moreover  he  tasked  me 
To  tell  him  in  rhyme. 

Anon  at  the  word, 
There  first  came  one  daughter, 
And  then  came  another, 

To  second  and  third 
The  request  of  their  brother, 
And  to  hear  how  the  water 
Comes  down  at  Lodore, 
With  its  rush  and  its  roar, 

As  many  a  time 
They  had  seen  it  before. 
So  I  told  them  in  rhyme, 
For  of  rhymes  I  had  store; 
And  'twas  in  my  vocation 

For  their  recreation 
That  so  I  should  sing; 
Because  I  was  Laureate 
To  them  and  the  King. 

From  its  sources  which  well 
In  the  tarn  on  the  fell; 

[243  ] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

From  its  fountains 
In  the  mountains, 
Its  rills  and  its  gills; 
Through  moss  and  through  brake, 

It  runs  and  it  creeps 
For  a  while  till  it  sleeps 
In  its  own  little  lake. 
And  thence  at  departing, 
Awakening  and  starting, 
It  runs  through  the  reeds, 
And  away  it  proceeds, 
Through  meadow  and  glade, 

In  sun  and  in  shade, 
And  through  the  wood-shelter, 
Among  crags  in  its  flurry, 
Helter-skelter, 
Hurry-skurry, 
Here  it  comes  sparkling, 
And  there  it  lies  darkling; 
Now  smoking  and  frothing 
Its  tumult  and  wrath  in, 
Till,  in  this  rapid  race 
On  which  it  is  bent, 
It  reaches  the  place 
Of  its  steep  descent. 

The  cataract  strong 

Then  plunges  along, 

Striking  and  raging 

As  if  a  war  waging 

Its  caverns  and  rocks  among; 

Rising  and  leaping, 

[244] 


Imitative    Harm  ony 


Sinking  and  creeping, 
Swelling  and  sweeping, 
Showering  and  springing, 
Flying  and  flinging, 
Writhing  and  wringing, 
Eddying  and  whisking, 
Spouting  and  frisking, 
Turning  and  twisting 
Around  and  around 
With  endless  rebound: 
Smiting  and  fighting, 
A  sight  to  delight  in; 
Confounding,  astounding, 
Dizzying  and  deafening  the  ear  with  its  sound. 

Collecting,  projecting, 
Receding  and  speeding, 
And  shocking  and  rocking, 
And  darting  and  parting, 
And  threading  and  spreading, 
And  whizzing  and  hissing, 
And  dripping  and  skipping, 
And  hitting  and  splitting, 
And  shining  and  twining, 
And  rattling  and  battling, 
And  shaking  and  quaking, 
And  pouring  and  roaring, 
And  waving  and  raving, 
And  tossing  and  crossing, 
And  flowing  and  going, 
And  running  and  stunning, 
And  foaming  and  roaming, 

[245] 


A    Whimsey    A  n't  ho  logy 


And  dinning  and  spinning, 
And  dropping  and  hopping, 
And  working  and  jerking, 
And  guggling  and  struggling, 
And  heaving  and  cleaving, 
And  moaning  and  groaning; 

And  glittering  and  frittering, 
And  gathering  and  feathering, 
And  whitening  and  brightening. 
And  quivering  and  shivering, 
And  hurrying  and  skurrying, 
And  thundering  and  floundering; 

Dividing  and  gliding  and  sliding, 

And  falling  and  brawling  and  sprawling, 

And  driving  and  riving  and  striving, 

And  sprinkling  and  twinkling  and  wrinkling, 

And  sounding  and  bounding  and  rounding, 

And  bubbling  and  troubling  and  doubling, 

And  grumbling  and  rumbling  and  tumbling, 

And  clattering  and  battering  and  shattering; 

Retreating  and  beating  and  meeting  and  sheeting, 
Delaying  and  straying  and  playing  and  spraying, 
Advancing  and  prancing  and  glancing  and  dancing, 
Recoiling,  turmoiling  and  toiling  and  boiling, 
And  gleaming  and  streaming  and   steaming  and 

beaming, 

And  rushing  and  flushing  and  brushing  and  gushing, 
And    flapping    and     rapping    and    clapping    and 

slapping, 

[246] 


Imitative    H arm  ony 


And  curling  and  whirling  and  purling  and  twirling, 
And  thumping  and   plumping  and  bumping  and 

jumping, 
And    dashing    and    flashing    and    splashing    and 

clashing; 

And  so  never  ending,  but  always  descending, 
Sounds  and  motions  forever  and  ever  are  blending, 
All  at  once  and  all  o'er,  with  a  mighty  uproar, — 
And  this  way  the  water  comes  down  at  Lodore. 

Robert  Soutbey. 


WHAT  IS  A  WOMAN  LIKE? 

A  WOMAN  is  like  to— but  stay— 
What  a  woman  is  like,  who  can  say  ? 
There  is  no  living  with  or  without  one. 

Love  bites  like  a  fly, 

Now  an  ear,  now  an  eye, 
Buz,  buz,  always  buzzing  about  one. 

When  she's  tender  and  kind 

She  is  like  to  my  mind, 
(And  Fanny  was  so,  I  remember). 

She's  like  to— Oh,  dear! 

She's  as  good,  very  near, 
As  a  ripe,  melting  peach  in  September. 

If  she  laugh,  and  she  chat, 

Play,  joke,  and  all  that, 
And  with  smiles  and  good  humor  she  meet  me, 

She's  like  a  rich  dish 

Of  venison  or  fish, 
That  cries  from  the  table,  Come  eat  me! 

[247] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

But  she'll  plague  you  and  vex  you, 
Distract  and  perplex  you; 
False-hearted  and  ranging, 
Unsettled  and  changing, 
What  then  do  you  think,  she  is  like? 

Like  sand  ?     Like  a  rock  ? 

Like  a  wheel  ?     Like  a  clock  ? 
Ay,  a  clock  that  is  always  at  strike. 
Her  head's  like  the  island  folks  tell  on, 
Which  nothing  but  monkeys  can  dwell  on; 
Her  heart's  like  a  lemon — so  nice 
She  carves  for  each  lover  a  slice; 

In  truth  she's  to  me, 

Like  the  wind,  like  the  sea, 
Whose  raging  will  hearken  to  no  man: 

Like  a  mill,  like  a  pill, 

Like  a  flail,  like  a  whale, 

Like  an  ass,  like  a  glass 
Whose  image  is  constant  to  no  man; 

Like  a  shower,  like  a  flower, 

Like  a  fly,  like  a  pie, 

Like  a  pea,  like  a  flea, 

Like  a  thief,  like — in  brief, 
She's  like  nothing  on  earth — but  a  woman! 

Anonymous. 

THE   KITCHEN  CLOCK 

TNITTING  is  the  maid  o'  the  kitchen,  Milly,| 
Doing  nothing  sits  the  chore  boy,  Billy; 
"  Seconds  reckoned, 

Seconds  reckoned; 

[248] 


Imitative    Harmony 


Every  minute, 
Sixty  in  it. 
Milly,  Billy, 
Billy,  Milly, 
Tick-tock,  tock-tick, 
Nick-knock,  knock-nick, 
Knockety-nick,  nickety-knock," 
Goes  the  kitchen  clock. 

Closer  to  the  fire  is  rosy  Milly, 
Every  whit  as  close  and  cozy,  Billy; 
"Time's  a-flying, 
Worth  your  trying; 
Pretty  Milly — 
Kiss  her,  Billy! 
Milly,  Billy, 
Billy,  Milly, 
Tick-tock,  tock-tick, 
Now — now,  quick — quick! 
Knockety-nick,  nickety-knock," — 
Goes  the  kitchen  clock. 

Something's  happened,  very  red  is  Milly, 

Billy  boy  is  looking  very  silly; 

"Pretty  misses, 

Plenty  kisses; 

Make  it  twenty, 

Take  a  plenty. 

Billy,  Milly, 

Milly,  Billy, 

Right — left,  left — right, 

That's  right,  all  right, 

[249] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Knockety-nick,  nickety-knock," — 
Goes  the  kitchen  clock. 


Weeks  gone,  still  they're  sitting,  Milly,  Billy; 
Oh,  the  winter  winds  are  wondrous  chilly! 
"Winter  weather, 
Close  together; 
Wouldn't  tarry, 
Better  marry. 
Milly,  Billy, 
Billy,  Milly, 
Two — one,  one — two, 
Don't  wait,  'twon't  do, 
Knockety-nick,  nickety-knock," — 
Goes  the  kitchen  clock. 

Winters  two  have  gone,  and  where  is  Milly? 
Spring  has  come  again,  and  where  is  Billy? 
"Give  me  credit, 
For  I  did  it; 
Treat  me  kindly, 
Mind  you  wind  me. 
Mister  Billy, 
Mistress  Milly, 
My — O,  O — my, 
By-by,  by-by, 

Nickety-knock,  cradle  rock," — 
Goes  the  kitchen  clock. 

John  Vance  Cheney. 


[250] 


Imitative    Harmony 


THE   FISHERMAN'S  CHANT 

OH,  the  fisherman  is  a  happy  wight! 
He  dibbles  by  day,  and  he  sniggles  by  night. 
He  trolls  for  fish,  and  he  trolls  his  lay — 
He  sniggles  by  night,  and  he  dibbles  by  day. 
Oh,  who  so  merry  as  he! 
On  the  river  or  the  sea ! 
Sniggling, 
Wriggling 
Eels,  and  higgling 
Over  the  price 
Of  a  nice 
Slice 

Of  fish,  twice 
As  much  as  it  ought  to  be. 

Oh,  the  fisherman  is  a  happy  man! 
He  dibbles,  and  sniggles,  and  fills  his  can! 
With  a  sharpened  hook,  and  a  sharper  eye. 
He  sniggles  and  dibbles  for  what  comes  by. 
Oh,  who  so  merry  as  he! 
On  the  river  or  the  sea! 

Dibbling 

Nibbling 

Chub,  and  quibbling 

Over  the  price 

Of  a  nice 

Slice 

Of  fish,  twice 

As  much  as  it  ought  to  be. 

F.  C.  Burnand. 

[251] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

THE  RECRUIT 

SEZ  Corporal  Madden  to  Private  McFadden: 
"Bedad,  yer  a  bad  un! 
Now  turn  out  yer  toes! 
Yer  belt  is  unhookit, 
Yer  cap  is  on  crookit, 
Ye  may  not  be  dhrunk, 
But,  be  jabers,  ye  look  it! 
Wan — two! 
Wan — two! 

Ye  monkey-faced  divil,  I'll  jolly  ye  through! 
Wan — two! — 
Time!     Mark! 
Ye  march  like  the  aigle  in  Cintheral  Parrk!" 

Sez  Corporal  Madden  to  Private  McFadden: 
"A  saint  it  ud  sadden 
To  dhrill  such  a  mug! 
Eyes  front! — ye  baboon,  ye! — 
Chin  up! — ye  gossoon,  ye! 
Ye've  jaws  like  a  goat — 
Halt!  ye  leather-lipped  loon,  ye! 
Wan — two! 
Wan — two ! 

Ye  whiskered  orang-outang,  I'll  fix  you! 
Wan — two ! — 
Time!     Mark! 
Ye've  eyes  like  a  bat! — can  ye  see  in  the  dark?" 

[  252] 


Imitative    Harmony 

Sez  Corporal  Madden  to  Private  McFadden: 
"Yer  figger  wants  padd'n' — 
Sure,  man,  ye've  no  shape! 
Behind  ye  yer  shoulders 
Stick  out  like  two  boulders; 
Yer  shins  is  as  thin 
As  a  pair  of  pen-holders! 
Wan — two! 
Wan — two! 

Yer  belly  belongs  on  yer  back,  ye  Jew! 
Wan — two! — 
Time!     Mark! 
I'm  dhry  as  a  dog — I  can't  shpake  but  I  bark!" 

S(/  Corporal  Madden  to  Private  McFadden: 
"Me  heart  it  ud  gladden 
To  blacken  your  eye. 
Ye're  gettin*  too  bold,  ye 
Compel  me  to  scold  ye, — 
'Tis  halt!  that  I  say, — 
Will  ye  heed  what  I  told  ye  ? 
Wan — two! 
Wan — two! 

Be  jabers,  I'm  dhryer  than  Brian  Boru! 
Wan — two!— 
Time!     Mark! 
What's  wur-ruk  for  chickens  is  sport  for  the  lark!'1 

Sez  Corporal  Madden  to  Private  McFadden: 
"I'll  not  stay  a  gaddin', 
Wid  dagoes  like  you! 

[253] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

I'll  travel  no  farther, 
I'm  dyin'  for — wather; — 
Come  on,  if  ye  like, — 
Can  ye  loan  me  a  quather? 
Ya-as,  you — 
What, — two  ? 

And  ye'll  pay  the  potheen  ?  Ye're  a  daisy!  Whurroo! 
You'll  do! 
Whist!    Mark! 
The  Rigiment's  flattered  to  own  ye,  me  spark!" 

Robert  William  Chambers. 


NO! 

NO  sun — no  moon! 
No  morn — no  noon — 
No   dawn — no   dusk — no    proper  time   of 

day — 

No  sky — no  earthly  view — 

No  distance  looking  blue — 

No  road — no  street — no  "t'other  side  the  way"- 

No  end  to  any  Row — 

No  indications  where  the  Crescents  go — 

No  top  to  any  steeple — 

No  recognitions  of  familiar  people — 

No  courtesies  for  showing  'em — 
No  knowing  'em! 

No  travelling  at  all — no  locomotion, 
No  inkling  of  the  way — no  notion — 

"No  go" — by  land  or  ocean — 

[254] 


Imitative    Harmony 


No  mail — no  post — 

No  news  from  any  foreign  coast — 
No  park — no  ring — no  afternoon  gentility — 

No  company — no  nobility — 
No  warmth,  no  cheerfulness,  no  healthful  ease, 

No  comfortable  feel  in  any  member — 
No  shade,  no  shine,  no  butterflies,  no  bees, 
No  fruits,  no  flowers,  no  leaves,  no  birds, 

November! 

Thomas  Hood. 


LAY  OF  THE  DESERTED  INFLUENZAED 

DOE,  doe! 
I  shall  dever  see  her  bore! 
Dever  bore  our  feet  shall  rove 

The  beadows  as  of  yore! 
Dever  bore  with  byrtle  boughs 

Her  tresses  shall  I  twide — 
Dever  bore  her  bellow  voice 

Bake  bellody  with  bide! 
Dever  shall  we  lidger  bore, 
Abid  the  flow'rs  at  dood, 
Dever  shall  we  gaze  at  dight 
Upon  the  tedtder  bood! 

Ho,  doe,  doe! 

Those  berry  tibes  have  flowd, 
Ad  I  shall  dever  see  her  bore, 
By  beautiful!  by  owd! 

[255] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Ho,  doe,  doe! 

I  shall  dever  see  her  bore, 
She  will  forget  be  id  a  bonth, 

(Host  probably  before) — 
She  will  forget  the  byrtle  boughs, 

The  flow'rs  we  plucked  at  dood, 
Our  beetigs  by  the  tedtder  stars, 

Our  gazigs  at  the  bood. 
Ad  I  shall  dever  see  agaid 

The  Lily  and  the  Rose; 
The  dabask  cheek!  the  sdowy  brow! 

The  perfect  bouth  ad  dose! 
Ho,  doe,  doe! 

Those  berry  tibes  have  flowd— 
Ad  I  shall  dever  see  her  bore, 

By  beautiful!  by  owd!! 

H.  Cholmondeley-PennelL 


BELAGCHOLLY  DAYS 

CHILLY  Dovebber  with  his  boadigg  blast 
Dow  cubs  add  strips  the  beddow  add  the 

lawd, 

Eved  October's  suddy  days  are  past — 
Add  Subber's  gawd! 

I  kdow  dot  what  it  is  to  which  I  cligg 

That  stirs  to  sogg  add  sorrow,  yet  I  trust 
That  still  I  sigg,  but  as  the  liddets  sigg — 
Because  I  bust. 

[256] 


Imitative    H armony 


Add  dow,  farewell  to  roses  add  to  birds, 

To  larded  fields  and  tigkligg  streablets  eke; 
Farewell  to  all  articulated  words 
I  faid  would  speak. 

Farewell,  by  cherished  strolliggs  od  the  sward, 

Greed  glades  add  forest  shades,  farewell  to  you; 
With  sorrowing  heart  I,  wretched  add  forlord, 
Bid  you — achew!!! 

Anonymous. 


AN  INVITATION  TO  THE  ZOOLOGICAL 
GARDENS 

(By  a  Stuttering  Lover) 

THAVE  found  out  a  gig-gig-gift  for  my  fuf-fuf- 
fair, 

I  have   found  where   the   rattlesnakes   bub- 
bub-breed; 

Will  you  co-co-come,  and  I'll  show  you  the  bub- 
bub-bear, 
And  the  lions  and  tit-tit-tigers  at  fuf-fuf-feed. 

I  know  where  the  co-co-cockatoo's  song 

Makes  mum-mum-melody  through  the  sweet  vale  ; 

Where  the  mum-monkeys  gig-gig-grin  all  the  day 

long, 
Or  gracefully  swing  by  the  tit-tit-tit-tail. 

[257] 


A    IVhimsey   Anthology 

You  shall  pip-play,  dear,  some  did-did-delicate  joke 
With  the  bub-bub-bear  on  the  tit-tit-top  of  his 

pip-pip-pip-pole; 
But  observe,  'tis  forbidden  to  pip-pip-poke 

At    the    bub-bub-bear   with    your    pip-pip-pink 
pip-pip-pip-pip-parasol ! 

You  shall  see  the  huge  elephant  pip-pip-play, 
You  shall    gig-gig-gaze    on    the    stit-stit-stately 

raccoon; 

And  then,  did-did-dear,  together  we'll  stray, 
To  the  cage  of  the  bub-bub-blue-faced  bab-bab 
boon. 

You  wished  (I  r-r-remember  it  well, 

And  I  lul-lul-loved  you  the  m-m-more  for  th 

wish) 

To  witness  the  bub-bub-beautiful  pip-pip-pel- 
ican swallow  the  1-1-live  little  fuf-fuf-fish ! 

Punch 


[258] 


LIMERICKS 


SHORT  MUSICAL  HISTORIES 


was  a  composer  named  Liszt, 
;         Who  from  writing  could  never  desiszt; 
He  made  Polonaises, 
Quite  worthy  of  praises, 
And  now  that  he's  gone,  he  is  miszt. 

Another  composer  named  Haydn, 
The  field  of  Sonata  would  waydn; 

He  wrote  the  "Creation," 

Which  made  a  sensation. 
And  this  was  the  work  which  he  daydn. 

A  modern  composer  named  Brahms, 
Caused  in  music  the  greatest  of  quahms, 

His  themes  so  complex 

Every  critic  would  vex, 
From  symphonies  clear  up  to  psahms. 

An  ancient  musician  named  Gluck 
The  manner  Italian  forsuck: 

He  fought  with  Piccini, 

Gave  way  to  Rossini, 
You  can  find  all  his  views  in  a  buck. 

Anonymous. 

[259] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


PREVALENT  POETRY 

A    WANDERING  tribe,  called  the  Siouxs, 
J-\      Wear  moccasins,  having  no  shiouxs, 
They  are  made  of  buckskin, 
With  the  fleshy  side  in, 
Embroidered  with  beads  of  bright  hyiouxs 

When  out  on  the  war-path,  the  Siouxs 
March  single  file — never  by  tiouxs — 

And  by  "blazing"  the  trees 

Can  return  at  their  ease, 
And  their  way  through  the  forests  ne'er  liouxs. 

All  new-fashioned  boats  he  eschiouxs, 
And  uses  the  birch-bark  caniouxs; 

These  are  handy  and  light, 

And,  inverted  at  night, 
Give  shelter  from  storms  and  from  dyiouxs. 

The  principal  food  of  the  Siouxs 
Is  Indian  maize,  which  they  briouxs 

And  hominy  make, 

Or  mix  in  a  cake, 
And  eat  it  with  fork,  as  they  chiouxs. 

Anonymoix 


[260] 


Limericks 


TOPOGRAPHICAL 

N  old  couple  living  in  Gloucester 

Had  a  beautiful  girl,  but  they  loucester; 
She  fell  from  a  yacht, 
And  never  the  spacht 
Could  be  found  where  the  cold  waves  had 
toucester. 


A 


An  old  lady  living  in  Worcester 

Had  a  gift  of  a  handsome  young  rorcester; 

But  the  way  that  it  crough, 

As  'twould  never  get  through, 
Was  more  than  the  lady  was  uorcester. 

At  the  bar  in  the  old  inn  at  Leicester 
Was  a  beautiful  bar-maid  named  Heicester; 

She  gave  to  each  guest 

Only  what  was  the  buest, 
And  they  all,  with  one  accord,  bleicester 

Anonymous. 


A  SERIOUS  LOVE  SPELL 

A  YOUNG  lady  sings  in  our  choir 
Whose  hair  is  the  color  of  phoir, 
But  her  charm  is  unique, 
She  has  such  a  fair  chique, 
It  is  really  a  joy  to  be  nhoir. 

[261] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

Whenever  she  looks  down  the  aisle 
She  gives  me  a  beautiful  smaisle, 

And  of  all  of  her  beaux, 

I  am  certain  she  sheaux 
She  likes  me  the  best  all  the  whaisle. 

Last  Sunday  she  wore  a  new  sacque, 
Low  cut  at  the  front  and  the  bacque. 

And  a  lovely  bouquet 

Worn  in  such  a  cute  wuet 
As  only  few  girls  have  the  knacque. 

Some  day,  ere  she  grows  too  antique, 
In  marriage  her  hand  I  shall  sique; 

If  she's  not  a  coquette, 

Which  I'd  greatly  regruette, 
She  shall  share  my  $6  a  wique. 

Anonymous 


O 


WILHELMJ 

H,  King  of  the  fiddle,  Wilhelmj, 
If  truly  you  love  me  just  tellmj; 
Just  answer  my  sigh 
By  a  glance  of  your  eye, 
Be  honest,  and  don't  try  to  sellmj. 


With  rapture  your  music  did  thrillmj; 
With  pleasure  supreme  did  it  fillmj, 
And  if  I  could  believe 
That  you  meant  to  deceive — 
Wilhelmj,  I  think  it  would  killmj. 

Robert  J.  Burdette 
[  262  ] 


Limericks 


SOME  SAINTLY  CITIES 

A    SPORTY  young  man  in  St.  Pierre 
>— ^     Had  a  sweetheart  and  oft  went  to  sierre. 
She  was  Gladys  by  name, 

And  one  time  when  he  came 
Her  mother  said:  "Gladys  St.  Hierre." 

A  globe-trotting  man  from  St.  Paul 
Made  a  trip  to  Japan  in  the  faul. 

One  thing  he  found  out, 

As  he  rambled  about, 
Was  that  Japanese  ladies  St.  Taul. 

A  guy  asked  two  jays  at  St.  Louis 

What  kind  of  an  Indian  the  Souis. 
They  said:  "We're  no  en- 
Cyclopedia,  by  hen!" 

Said  the  guy:  "If  you  fellows  St.  Whouis?" 

A  bright  little  maid  in  St.  Thomas 
Discovered  a  suit  of  pajhomas. 

Said  the  maiden:  "Well,  well! 

What  they  are  I  can't  tell; 
But  I'm  sure  that  these  garments  St.  Mhomas." 

Ferdinand  G.  Cbristgau. 


[263] 


S 


A    Whims ey   Anthology 


BY  CAROLYN  WELLS 

AID  a  bad  little  youngster  named  Beauchamp: 
"Those  jelly-tarts  how  shall  I  reauchamp? 

To  my  parents  I'd  go, 

But  they  always  say  'No/ 

No  matter  how  much  I  beseauchamp." 


A  very  polite  man  named  Hawarden 
Went  out  to  plant  flowers  in  his  gawarden. 

If  he  trod  on  a  slug, 

A  worm,  or  a  bug, 
He  said:  "My  dear  friend,  I  beg  pawarden!" 

*  *  * 

There  was  a  young  fellow  named  Knollys, 
Who  was  fond  of  a  good  game  of  kbollys; 

He  jumped  and  he  ran, — 

This  clever  young  man, — 
And  often  he  took  pleasant  kstrollys. 

*  *  * 

A  lady  who  lived  by  the  Thames 
Had  a  gorgeous  collection  of  ghames. 

She  had  them  reset 

In  a  large  coronet 
And  a  number  of  small  diadhames. 


A  tutor  who  tooted  the  flute 
Tried  to  tutor  two  tooters  to  toot. 

[264] 


Limericks 


Said  the  two  to  the  tutor, 
"Is  it  harder  to  toot  or 
To  tutor  two  tooters  to  toot  ? " 


A  canner,  exceedingly  canny, 

One  morning  remarked  to  his  granny, 

"A  canner  can  can 

Anything  that  he  can, 
But  a  canner  can't  can  a  can,  can  he?" 


There  was  a  young  fellow  named  Tait, 
Who  dined  with  his  girl  at  8.  08; 

But  I'd  hate  to  relate  - 

What  that  fellow  named  Tait 
And  his  tete-k-tete  ate  at  8.  08 ! 


There  was  a  young  man  of  Typhoo 
Who  wanted  to  catch  the  2.  02, 

But  his  friend  said,  "Don't  hurry 

Or  worry  or  flurry, 
It's  a  minute  or  two  to  2.  02." 


"There's  a  train  at  4.04,"  said  Miss  Jenny, 
"Four  tickets  I'll  take;  have  you  any?" 

Said  the  man  at  the  door, 
"  Not  four  for  4.  04, 
For  four  for  4.  04  is  too  many!" 

[265] 


A    W 'him  s  ey    A  n  t  holo  gy 

There  was  a  nice  fellow  named  Jenner, 
Who  sang  a  phenomenal  tenor, 

He  had  little  to  spend, 

So  I  often  would  lend 
The  tenor  a  ten  or  a  tenner. 

Carolyn  Wells. 


There  once  was  a  Master  of  Arts 
Who  was  nuts  upon  cranberry  tarts; 

When  he'd  eaten  his  fill, 

He  was  awfully  ill, 
But  he  still  was  a  Master  of  Arts. 

Cosmo  Monkhouse. 


There  once  were  some  learned  M.D.'s, 
Who  captured  some  germs  of  disease, 
And  infected  a  train, 
Which  without  causing  pain, 
Allowed  one  to  catch  it  with  ease. 

Oliver  Herford. 


There  was  a  young  lady  of  Lynn, 

Who  was  deep  in  original  sin; 

When  they  said,  "Do  be  good," 
She  said,  "Would  if  I  could !" 

And  straightway  went  at  it  ag'in. 

Anonymous. 

[266] 


Limericks 


I'd  rather  have  fingers  than  toes; 
I'd  rather  have  ears  than  a  nose; 

And  as  for  my  hair 

I'm  glad  it's  all  there, 
I'll  be  awfully  sad  when  it  goes. 

Gelett  Burgess. 


There  was  a  young  fellow  named  Clyde; 
Who  was  once  at  a  funeral  spied. 

When  asked  who  was  dead, 

He  smilingly  said, 
"/  don't  know, — /  just  came  for  the  ride!" 

Anonymous. 


There  was  a  young  lady  of  Truro, 
Who  wished  a  mahogany  bureau; 

But  her  father  said,  "Dod! 

All  the  men  on  Cape  Cod 
Couldn't  buy  a  mahogany  bureau!" 

Anonymous. 


There  was  a  young  man  of  Ostend 
Who  vowed  he'd  hold  out  to  the  end, 

But  when  halfway  over 

From  Calais  to  Dover, 
He  done  what  he  didn't  intend — 

Anonymous. 

[267] 


A    JVhimsey   Anthology 

There  was  an  Old  Man  in  a  tree 
Who  was  horribly  bored  by  a  bee; 

When  they  said,  "Does  it  buzz?" 

He  replied,  "Yes,  it  does! 
It's  a  regular  brute  of  a  bee." 

Edward  Lear. 

*  *  * 

There  was  an  Old  Man  of  St.  Bees 
Who  was  stung  in  the  arm  by  a  wasp. 
When  asked,  "Does  it  hurt?" 
He  replied,  "No,  it  doesn't, 
But  I  thought  all  the  while  'twas  a  hornet." 

W.  S.  Gilbert 

*  *  * 

There  was  an  old  man  of  the  Rhine, 
When  asked  at  what  hour  he  would  dine, 

Replied,  "At  eleven, 

Four,  six,  three  and  seven, 
And  eight  and  a  quarter  of  nine." 

*  *  * 

There  was  a  young  man  of  Laconia, 
Whose  mother-in-law  had  pneumonia; 

He  hoped  for  the  worst, 

And  after  March  first 
They  buried  her  'neath  a  begonia. 

*  *  * 

There  was  a  young  man  of  the  cape 
Who  always  wore  trousers  of  crepe; 

Whep  asked,  "Don't  they  tear?" 
He  replied,  "Here  and  there; 
But  they  keep  such  a  beautiful  shape." 

[268] 


Limericks 


There  was  a  young  man  of  Fort  Blainey, 
Who  proposed  to  a  typist  named  Janey;* 

When  his  friends  said,  "Oh,  dear! 

She's  so  old  and  so  queer!" 
He  replied,  "But  the  day  was  so  rainy!" 

Anonymous. 


269 


INDEX   OF   TITLES 


INDEX   OF   TITLES 


PAGE 

A,  B,  C C.  S.  Calverley  ...  38 

Acrostic Sir  John  Dames  ...  73 

Acrostic Charles  Lamb  ....  73 

Acrostic Bogart 74 

Acrostic Lewis  Carroll  ....  75 

Acrostic,  An Anonymous  ....  75 

Acrostic,  An Lewis  Carroll  ....  76 

Acrostic,  Double  ....  Anonymous  ....  77 

Acrostic,  Particular  ....  Thomas  Jordan  ...  78 

Acrostic,  Peculiar — A  Valentine  E.  A .  Poe 77 

Ad  Mortem Anonymous  .  .  .  .170 

Adioux  Among  the  Sioux  .  .  Anonymous  .  .  .  .  16 

^Estivation Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  .  187 

After  Dilettante  Concetti  .  .  H.D.Traill  .  .  .  .216 

All  the  Same  in  the  End  .  .  Isaac  Ross  .  .  .  .228 

Alphabet  Verse Anonymous  ....  66 

Alphabetical  Wooing,  An  .  .  A  nonymous  ....51 

Ambiguous  Lines  ....  Anonymous  .  .  .  .182 

Animal  Alphabet,  An  .  .  .  Anonymous  ....  42 

Animal  Alphabet,  An  .  .  .  Edward  Lear  ....  43 
Appeal  for  Are  to  the  Sextant  of 

the  Old  Brick  Meetinouse,  A 

(By  a  gasper)  ....  Anonymous  .  .  .  .229 

Approach  of  Evening,  The  .  .  A  nonymous  ....  64 

Arab  and  his  Donkey,  An  .  .  Anonymous  ....  57 

Avoirdupois Anonymous  .  .  .  .  36 

BACCHANALIAN  TOAST,  A  .  .  Robert  Herrick  .  .  .105 
Bait  of  the  Average  Fisherman  H.  C.  Dodge  ....  25 
Ballad  of  Ameighlia  Maireigh, 

The Anonymous     ....       9 

Ballad  of  the  Canal  ....  Phoebe  Gary    .      .      .     .222 

Ballade W.  E.  Henley        .      .      .   161 

Beauties   of    English    Orthog- 
raphy, The      Anonymous     ....  203 

[273] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


Belagcholly  Days     ....  Anonymous     .     .     . 

Bells,  The E.A.Poe  .     .     .     . 

Billet-Doux,  A Anonymous     .     .     . 

Bloom,  Beauteous  Blossoms     .  Sir  Patrick  Fells  . 
Border  Ballad,  A      ....  Captain  Harry  Graham 

Bowled Anonymous     ... 

Briefless  Barrister,  The        .      .  John  G.  Saxe  .     .     . 

CARELESSE  NURSE  MAYD,  THE  Thomas  Hood 
Catalectic  Monody,  A    ...  Cruikshank's  Omnibus 
Cataract  of  Lodore,  The      .      .  Robert  Southey      .     . 

Caution,  A Anonymous     .     .      . 

Cautions Hugh  Rhodes  .      .     . 

Ce  Meme  Vieux  Coon  .  .  .  Anonymous  .  .  . 
Charade :  Campbell ....  Winthrop  Mackworth 

Praed       .... 

Chemist  to  his  Love,  The        .  Punch 

Concord  Love-Song,  A  ...  James  Jeffrey  Roche  . 
Conjugal  Conjugations  .  .  A .  W.  Bellaw  .  .  . 
Cosmic  Egg,  The  ....  Anonymous  .  .  . 
Country  Summer  Pastoral,  A  .  Anonymous  .  .  . 
Court  of  Aldermen  at  Fish- 
mongers'Hall,  The  .  .  .  Anonymous  .  .  . 
Cow,  The — ABovinity.  .  .  Anonymous  .  .  . 

Cuckoo,  The Old  Rhyme      .     .     . 

Cushat,  The Alexander  Montgomery 

DAYS  IN  THE  MONTHS  .     .     .  Anonymous     .  .  . 

Days  of  Birth Old  Rhyme      .  .  . 

Death  of  Little  Nell        .     .      .  Charles  Dickens  .  . 

Dirge Anonymous     .  .  . 

Doneraile  Litany,  The  .      .      .  Patrick  O' Kelly  .  . 

Double-Faced  Creed,  The  .     .  Anonymous     .  .  . 

Double  Knock,  The       .     .     .  Thomas  Hood  .  . 

EARTH Anonymous     .     .     . 

Echo John  G.  Saxe  .     .     . 

Echoes Lewis  Carroll  .     .     . 

Enigma  on  Cod Anonymous     .     .     . 

Enigma  on  the  Letter  H  .  .  Catherine  Fanshawe  . 
Enigma  on  the  Letter  I  ...  Catherine  Fanshawe  . 
Equivocal  Verses  ....  Anonymous  . 

[274] 


Index    of  Titles 


FALL  OF  EVE,  THE  ....  Anonymous  ....  63 
Famous  Riddle,  A  .  .  .  .  A  nonymous  ....  85 
Fate  of  Nassan,  The  .  .  .  Anonymous  ....  65 
Fate  of  the  Glorious  Devil,  The  Anonymous  .  .  .  .175 

Ferry  Tale,  A Charles  E.  Carryl       .     .   149 

Fisherman's  Chant,  The     .      .  F.C.Burnand      .      .     .251 

Five  Wines Robert  H errick      .     .     .137 

Flagon,  The Pannard 23 

French  Adage Anonymous     .     .     .     .100 

From  Vivette's  "Milkmaid"  .  Carolyn  Wells  .  .  .199 
Future  of  the  Classics,  The  .  .  Anonymous  .  .  .  .143 

GEOGRAPHICAL  LOVE  SONG,  A  Anonymous  ....  53 
Glass,  The Pannard 24 

HALF  HOURS  WITH  THE  CLAS- 
SICS       H.  J.  DeBurgh     .      ..17 

H«>urs  of  Sleep Anonymous     ....     99 

Hundred  Best  Books,  The  .     .  Mostyn  T.  Pigott        .     .   106 

"  Ini  BINDEIN"      ....  Anonymous     ....   192 

Incontrovertible  Facts  .     .     .  Anonymous     ....     64 

Indian  Tribes Anonymous     .      .      .     .   in 

Invitation     to    the    Zoological 

Gardens,  An Punch 257 

Isrufiddlestrings        ....  Anonymous     .      .     .     .219 

JAPANESQUE Oliver  Her  ford     .     .     .208 

fob Anonymous     .     .      .      .     16 

focosaLyra Austin  Dobson      .      .      .145 

Jones's  Ride       .*   .      .     .     .  McLandburgh  Wilson      .     34 

Joys  of  Marriage,  The   .      .      .  Charles  Cotton      .     .      .119 

Justice  to  Scotland   ....  Punch 201 

KITCHEN  CLOCK,  THE  .     .     .  John  Vance  Cheney   .     .  248 

LADY  MOON Christina  G.  Rossetti  .     .  96 

Lay  of  the  Deserted  Influenzaed  H.  Cholmondeley-Pennell  255 
Letter  H's  Protest  to  the  Cock- 
neys, The  Mr.Skeat 81 

Life Anonymous     .      .      .      .172 

Limerick Cosmo  M onkhouse      .      .  266 

Limerick Oliver  Her  ford     ...  266 

[275  ] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 


PAGE 

Limerick '    •  Gelett  Burgess       .     .     .267 

Limerick Edward  Lear  ....   268 

Limerick W.S.Gilbert   ....   268 

Limericks Carolyn  Wells       .     .     .  264 

Limericks Anonymous     .   266,  267,  268 

Little  Boys  take  Warning    .      .  Anonymous     ....     28 

Little  Star,  The Anonymous     .     .     .      .214 

Lines  on  Rose Charles  Battell  Loomis     .   138 

London  Bells Anonymous     .      .     .      .   115  < 

Lovelilts Anonymous     ....     60 

Love's  Moods  and  Senses    .      .  Anonymous     ....       5 

MACARONIC  MOTHER  GOOSE    .  Anonymous     .... 

Man  of  Words,  A      ....  Anonymous     .... 

Memorandums Charles  E.  Carryl       .     . 

Mice,  The Lewis  Carroll  .... 

Midsummer  Madness    .      .      .  Anonymous     .... 

Mighty  Must,  The    ....  W.S.Gilbert   .... 

Monorhymed  Alphabet       .      .  Anonymous     .... 

Monorhymed  Alphabet       .      .  Mortimer  Collins  .      .      . 

Musical  Ass,  The     ....  Tomaso  de  Yriarte 

MyGenevieve Anonymous     .... 

My  Madeline Anonymous     .... 

My  Manx  Minx Orlando  Thomas  Dobbin 

NERVE  THY  SOUL   ....  Anonymous     .... 
New- Year's  Gift  for  Shrews,  A  .  Anonymous     .... 

No  I Thomas  Hood       .     .     . 

Nocturnal  Sketch,  A      .      .      .   Thomas  Hood       .     .     . 

Nursery  Gardening  .      .     .     .  N.  M 

Nursery  Rhyme,  A  ....  Anonymous     .... 


ODE  ON  THE  450TH  ANNIVER- 
SARY CELEBRATION  AT  ETON  /.  K.  Stephen       .     . 

O  D  V Anonymous     . 

O  I  C Anonymous 

Old  Adage Anonymous     .     .      . 

Old  Riddle Anonymous 

Old  Saw Anonymous     .     .      . 

On  the  Street Anonymous     ... 

One  Week Carolyn  Wells       .     .     .   120! 

Optimism N.  M 2i2| 

Original  Lamb,  The       .      .      .   Tid-bits aifl 

[276] 


Index    of  Titles 


Original  Love  Story,  An 

Ough 

O-U-G-H.  A  Fresh  Hack  at  an 

Old  Knot 

Out  of  Sight,  Out  of  Mind  .      . 
Ow 


Anonymous     ....       7 

Anonymous     .      .      .     .     13 

Charles  Battett  Loom  is  .  14 
Barnaby  Googe  .  .  .169 
Anonymous  .  .  .  .  15 


PALINDROME  LINES      .     .     .  Anonymous     ....     95 

Palindromes H.  Campkin   ....     93 

Panegyric  on  the  Ladies      .      .  Anonymous     .     .     .     .181 

Pearl  of  Palencia,  The   .      .      .  Walter  Parke  .      .      .     .     u 

Perfect  Greyhound,  The     .      .  Old  Rhyme      ....     97 

Peter  Piper Anonymous     .      .     .      .123 

Philosophic  Advice  ....  Anonymous     ....   102 

Philosophy Anonymous     ....     65 

Piazza  Tragedy,  A    ....  Eugene  Field  .     .     .     .215 

Pitcher  of  Mignonette,  A     .      .  H.C.Bunner       .     .     .160 

IM.it  form,  The Anonymous     ....   180 

Poetry  and  the  Poet        .     .     .  H .  C.  Bunner       .     .     .223 

Prevalent  Poetry       ....  Anonymous     ....   260 

Procuratores Anonymous     ....     72 

Prognostications       ....  Anonymous     ....     99 

QILERITUR Rudyard  Kipling       .     .     71 

"Oueries" W.Stanford     ....       8 

REASONS  FOR  DRINKING     .     .  Dr.  Henry  Aldrich     .     .  104 

Ki-rniit,  The Robert  William  Chambers   252 

Remember Judy 166 

Rhyme  for  Musicians,  A      .         E.  Lemke 109 

Rhyme  for  Tipperary,  A      .         Dr .  Fitzgerald  .     .129 

Right  Sort  of  a  Fellow,  The          Anonymous     .  .     .   102 

Roman  Nose,  The    .      .      .         Merrie  England          .     .128 
Romantic  Recollections.     .         Henry  S.Leigh          .     .61 

Rondeau Leigh  Hunt     .  .     .   166 

Rondeau,  The Austin  Dobson  .     .156 

Rondelay,  A Peter  A.M.  otteux        .     .163 

Roundel,  The A.C.Swinburne         .     .   156 

Royalist  Lines Anonymous     .  .     .   184 

Rule  of  Three,  A       ....  Wallace  Rice   .  .      .   104 

Ruling  Power,  The  ....   Thomas  Hood  .      .126 

Russo-Turkish  War,  The    .     .  Anonymous     .  .     .     63 

[277] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

PAGE 

SERIOUS  LOVE  SPELL,  A  .  .  Anonymous  ....  261 
Shake,  Mulleary  and  Go-ethe  .  H.  C.  Bunner  .  .  .  19 
Sheridan's  Calendar  .  .  .  Anonymous  ....  103 
Short  Musical  Histories  .  .  Anonymous  ....  250 
Siege  of  Belgrade,  The  .  .  .  Anonymous  .  .  .  37 

Signs  of  Rain Edward  Jenner     .     .     .112 

Similes Anonymous     .     .     .     .   113 

Simple  English Ray  Clarke  Rose   .     .     .124 

"Soldier,  Rest!"  ....  Robert  J .  Burdette  .  .  202 
Some  Saintly  Cities  ....  Ferdinand  G.  Christgau  .  263 

Song Addison 185 

Song  for  a  Cracked  Voice  .  .  Wallace  Irwin  .  .  .150 
Song  of  Sorrow,  A  ....  Charles  Battell  Loomis  .  227 
Song  of  the  Decanter  .  .  .  Anonymous  ....  22 
Song  of  the  Kettle  ....  Charles  Dickens  .  .  .  154 
Song  of  the  &,  A  ....  Anonymous  ....  58 
Sonnet  on  the  Sonnet  .  .  .  James  Y.Gibson  .  .  .164 
Sonnet  to  a  Clam  ....  JohnG.Saxe  .  .  .  .  165  ; 

Sonnet  to  Order H .  C.  Bunner       .     .     .164. 

Spelling  Reform        ....  Anonymous     .     .     .      .210 

Stegomyia,  The Anonymous     ....     27 

Sunday  Fisherman  The  .  .  A .  W.  Bellaiv  .  ...  54 
Susan  Simpson Anonymous  .  .  .  .  69 '.' 

TALE  OF  A  MOUSE,  THE  .  .  Lewis  Carroll  ....  29 
Telegram  Anagrammatised,  A  Dr.  John  Abernethy  .  .91 
Tema  Con  Variazioni  .  .  .  Lewis  Carroll  .  .  .  .  158  } 

Thatcher,  The Anonymous     .      .      .      .    123  I 

'Tis  Ever  Thus R.  K.  Munkittrick      .      .no 

To  Mrs.  Thrale  on  her  Thirty- 
fifth  Birthday       ....  Boswell 128  j 

To  My  Nose Alfred  A.  Forrester     .      .209 

TotheFair"Come-Outer"      .  Anonymous     .      .     .      .190] 

Topographical Anonymous     ....   261  j 

Travesty  of  Miss   Fanshawe's 

Enigma Horace  Mayhew  ...     80 

Triolet Paul  T.Gilbert     .      .      .159 

Triolet,  The W.  E.  Henley        .      .      .   159  ] 

Triolet,  The Austin  Dob  son      .     .      .   160  j 

Triolet,  A  Cubic  ....  Anonymous  ....  36 
Triolets  Ollendorffiens  .  .  .  J.  K.  Stephen  .  .  .  .  200  .i 

Trip  to  Paris,  A James  Smith   ....   146  • 

Twiner,  The Dr.Wallis       .      .      .      .122 

[278] 


Index    of  Titles 


Two  Apple-Howling  Songs       .  Anonymous     ....     98 
Type  of  Beauty,  A    ....  Anonymous     ....     26 

UNCORDIER Attain  Chartier     .     .     .   122 

Under  the  Trees        ....  C.S.Calverley      .     .     .125 
Unsolved  Enigma,  An    ...  Anonymous     ....     83 

VERY  FELIS-ITOUS    ....  Green  Kendrick     .     .     .186 

Villanelle Waller  W.  Sleat     ...   155 

Villanelle W.E.Henley        .     .     .162 

Villanelle  of  Things  Amusing   .  Gelett  Burgess       .     .     .157 

Villikens Richard  Mansfield      .     .   198 

WAIL  OF  THE   "PERSONALLY 

CONDUCTED,"  THE  .     .     .  H.C.Bunner       .     .     .167 

Waterloo  Place H.Cholmondeley-Pennell   228 

What  Hiawatha  Probably  Did     Anonymous     .     .     .     .124 
What  is  a  Woman  Like  ? 
Whatever  is,  is  Right 


Whenceness  of  the  Which 
Wild  Sports  in  the  East 


Anonymous     ....  247 
Laman  Blanchard      .     .178 


Anonymous     ....  224 

Anonymous     ....  189 

\\ilhelfnj Robert  J.  Burdette       .      .  262 

Wine  Glass,  The       ....  Anonymous     ....  21 


YE  CARPETTE  KNYGHTE     .     .  Lewis  Carroll .     .     .     .195 

ZEALLESS  XYLOGRAPHER,  THE  Mary  Mapes  Dodge  .     .     52 
Zoology Punch 236 


[279] 


INDEX   OF   AUTHORS 


INDEX    OF   AUTHORS 


ABERNETHY,  DR.  JOHN  PAGE 

A  Telegram  Anagrammatised 91 

ADDISON 

Song 185 

ALDRICH,  DR.  HENRY 

Reasons  for  Drinking 104 

BELLAW,  A.  W. 

Conjugal  Conjugations 3 

The  Old  Line  Fence 31 

The  Sunday  Fisherman 54 

BLANCHARD,  LAMAN 

Whatever  is,  is  Right 178 

Boo  ART 

Acrostic 74 

BOSWELL 

To  Mrs.  Thrale  on  her  Thirty-fifth  Birthday      .     .128 

BUNNER,    H.    C. 

Shake,  Mulleary  and  Go-ethe 19 

A  Pitcher  of  Mignonette 160 

Sonnet  to  Order 164 

The  Wail  of  the  "Personally  Conducted"      .     .     .167 

Poetry  and  the  Poet 223 

BURDETTE,  ROBERT  J. 

"Soldier,  Rest!" 202 

Wilhelmj         262 

BURGESS,  GELETT 

Villanelle  of  Things  Amusing 157 

Limerick 267 

BURNAND,  F    C. 

The  Fisherman's  Chant 251 

CALVERLEY,  C.  S. 

A,  B,  C 38 

Under  the  Trees 125 

[283] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

CAMPKIN,  H.  PAGE 

Palindromes 93 

CARROLL   LEWIS 

The  Tale  of  a  Mouse v  ...     29 

The  Mice 30 

Acrostic 75 

An  Acrostic 76 

Tema  Con  Variazioni 158 

Echoes 177 

Ye  Carpette  Knyghte 195 

CARRYL,  CHARLES  E. 

Memorandums 41 

A  Ferry  Tale 149 

CARY,  PHOEBE 

Ballad  of  the  Canal 222 

CHAMBERS,  ROBERT  WILLIAM 

The  Recruit 252 

CHARTIER,  ALLAIN 

Un  Cordier 122 

CHENEY,  JOHN  VANCE 

The  Kitchen  Clock 248 

CHRISTGAU,  FERDINAND  G 

Some  Saintly  Cities 263 

COLLINS,  MORTIMER 

Monorhymed  Alphabet 40 

COTTON,  CHARLES 

'  The  Joys  of  Marriage 119 

DAVIES,  SIR  JOHN 

Acrostic 73 

DEBURGH,  H.  J. 

Half  Hours  with  the  Classics 17 

DICKENS,  CHARLES 

Death  of  Little  Nell 152 

Song  of  the  Kettle 154 

DOBBIN,  ORLANDO  THOMAS 

My  Manx  Minx 135 

DOBSON,  AUSTIN 

Jocosa  Lyra 145 

The  Rondeau 156  j 

The  Triolet     .      .    • 160 

DODGE,  H.  C. 

Bait  of  the  Average  Fisherman 25 

[284] 


Index    of  Auth  or  s 


DODGE,  MARY  MAPES 

The  Zealless  Xylographer 52 

FANSHAWE,  CATHERINE 

Enigma  on  the  Letter  H 79 

Enigma  on  the  Letter  I 81 

FELLS,  SIR  PATRICK 

Bloom,  Beauteous  Blossoms 68 

FIELD,  EUGENE 

A  Piazza.  Tragedy 215 

FITZGERALD.  DR. 

A  Rhyme  for  Tipperary 129 

FORRESTER,  ALFRED  A. 

To  My  Nose 209 

GIBSON,  JAMES  Y. 

Sonnet  on  the  Sonnet 164 

GILBERT,  PAUL  T. 

Triolet 159 

GILBERT,  W.  S. 

The  Mighty  Must 225 

Limerick 268 

GOOGE,  BARNABY 

Out  of  Sight,  Out  of  Mind 169 

GRAHAM,  CAPTAIN  HARRY 

A  Border  Ballad 196 

HENLEY,  W.  E. 

The  Triolet 159 

Ballade 161 

Villancllc 162 

i  h  KFORD,  OLIVER 

Japanesque 208 

Limerick 266 

HERRICK,  ROBERT 

Five  Wines 137 

A  Bacchanalian  Toast 105 

HOLMES,  OLIVER  WENDELL 

Estivation 187 

HOOD,  THOMAS 

The  Ruling  Power 126 

A  Nocturnal  Sketch 140 

The  Double  Knock 142 

The  Carelesse  Nurse  Mayd 196 

[  285  ] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

HOOD,  THOMAS  PAGE 

No! 254 

HUNT,  LEIGH 

Rondeau 166 

IRWIN,  WALLACE 

Song  for  a  Cracked  Voice    .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .150 

JENNER,  EDWARD 

Signs  of  Rain 112 

JORDAN,  THOMAS 

Particular  Acrostic 78 

KENDRICK,  GREEN 

Very  Felis-itous 186 

KIPLING,  RUDYARD 

Quaeritur 71 

LAMB,  CHARLES 

Acrostic ......73 

LEAR,  EDWARD 

An  Animal  Alphabet       .........43 

Limerick 268 

LEIGH,  HENRY  S. 

Romantic  Recollections 61 

LEMKE,  E.  \ 

A  Rhyme  fotMusicians 109 

LOOMIS,  CHARLES\}ATTELL 

O-U-G-H.     A  Fresh  Hack  at  an  Old  Knot  ...     14 

Lines  on  Rose 138 

A  Song  of  Sorrow 227 

MANSFIELD,  RICHARD 

Villikens 198 

MAYHEW,  HORACE 

Travesty  of  Miss  Fanshawe's  Enigma  ....  80 
MONKHOUSE,  COSMO 

Limerick 266 

MONTGOMERY,  ALEXANDER 

The  Cushat 70 

MOTTEUX,  PETER  A. 

A  Rondelay 163  , 

MUNKITTRICK,    R.   K. 

'Tis  Ever  Thus no 

[286] 


Index   of  Authors 


O'KELLY,  PATRICK  PAGE 

The  Doneraile  Litany 132 

PANNARD 

The  Flagon 23 

The  Glass 24 

PARKE,  WALTER 

The  Pearl  of  Palencia 1 1 

PENNELL,  H.  CHOLMONDELEY- 

Waterloo  Place 228 

Lay  of  the  Deserted  Influenzaed 255 

PlGOTT,    MOSTYN   T. 

The  Hundred  Best  Books 106 

POE,  EDGAR  ALLAN 

Peculiar  Acrostic — A  Valentine 77 

The  Bells 239 

PRAED,  WINTHROP  MACKWORTH 

Charade:  Campbell 89 

RHODES,  HUGH 

Cautions 101 

RICE,  WALLACE 

A  Rule  of  Three 104 

ROCHE,  JAMES  JEFFREY 

A  Concord  Love-Song 226 

ROSE,  RAY  CLARKE 

Simple  English 124 

Ross,  ISAAC 

All  the  Same  in  the  End 228 

ROSSETTI,  CHRISTINA  G. 

Lady  Moon 96 

SAXE,  JOHN  G. 

Sonnet  to  a  Clam 165 

Echo 183 

The  Briefless  Barrister 205 

SEWARD,  ANNA 

An  Unsolved  Enigma 82 

SKEAT,  MR. 

The  Letter  H's  Protest  to  the  Cockneys  .  .  .  .  81 
SLEAT,  WALTER  W. 

Villanelle 155 

SMITH,  JAMES 

A  Trip  to  Paris 146 


[287] 


A    Whimsey    Anthology 

SOUTHEY,  ROBERT  PAC 

The  Cataract  of  Lodore 24 

STANFORD,  W. 

"  Queries" 

STEPHEN,  J.  K. 

Triolets  Ollendorffiens 20 

Ode  on  the  45oth  Anniversary  Celebration  at  Eton  .   23 

SWINBURNE,  A.  C. 

The  Roundel 15 

TRAILL,  H.  D. 

After  Dilettante  Concetti 21- 

WALLIS,  DR. 

The  Twiner 12. 

WELLS,  CAROLYN 

One  Week i2< 

From  Vivette's  "Milkmaid" IQ( 

Limericks 26, 

WILSON,  MCLANDBURGH 

Jones's  Ride 3< 

YRIARTE,  TOMASO  DE 

The  Musical  Ass 12' 


[288] 


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